Fate Fractum Abraxus
by Wererat
Summary: A new war has somehow begun, and Risako Emiya, daughter of Shirou and Sakura, fights for her life amidst conspiracies and assassins. Original Masters and Servants as well as some familiar faces.
1. Risako

Fate/Fractum Abraxas

Chapter 1 - Risako

Risako Emiya hid behind the tall cedar tree, counting up out loud with her hands over her eyes. It was a bright, beautiful day with only a few clouds in the sky, and a gentle breeze that pushed the tall grass that grew around her.

"…Fifteen, Sixteen, Seventeen…"

It was an altogether idyllic scene, like something taken out of a picture book. The colors were too vivid, the sounds too clear. Then, like a flash of light it occurred to her. This was a dream, but at the same time it was a memory of the past, painted over in dreamlike hues. A memory she hadn't known she had forgotten.

"…Thirty, Thirty-one, Thirty-two, Vicchan, isn't this enough!"

Risako waited for a reply, but when none came she uncovered her eyes. She hadn't changed much since she had been a child. Orange-red hair like the sunset sky, much like her father's maybe a shade or two darker, cut boyishly short with a single strand sticking up rebelliously to the side, which refused to lay flat no matter how much she tried to tame it, her eyes were brown, with an almost amber luster to them, and she wore a white graphic t-shirt with the title of a samurai period drama that had aired recently emblazoned upon it under a red hoodie, a pair of blue jeans with the knees worn out, and a pair of red tennis shoes.

If one were to guess she could hold her own when playing sports against boys her age, then they wouldn't be wrong. Everything about her was bursting with a vibrant, youthful energy; it was a small wonder she could stand still long enough for the countdown and not dash off to begin the game as soon as she thought she could get away with.

"Time's up Vicchaaan! You better be hiding cause I'm gonna find you!"

Risako remembered hearing somewhere that when a dreamer realizes they are dreaming they became able to control their dream world. She couldn't recall exactly where or from whom she had heard this, but regardless she had no control over her younger dream-self. It was just like watching a movie without any way to pause or skip scenes.

She wandered park aimlessly a while, checking behind trees and inside waste bins, and sighed. Just how well could Vicchan hide herself? This was just a simple game of hide-and-seek, wasn't it? She closed her eyes. _Where are you, Vicchan?_

_Over there._

In her mind's eye, a torch lit up in the distance, cutting through the darkness of her uncertainty. When she opened her eyes she ran forward with a sense of purpose, down the paved path, through a break in the trees, and into an open field. A girl with long silver hair stood there with her back turned to her, dressed in a one-piece summer dress, arms crossed behind her back. Hearing Risako's footsteps, she spun around and smiled, her blood-red eyes sparkling.

"You found me, Risako." She said.

"Why didn't you answer me when I called?" Risako asked.

"I knew you'd find me, no matter what." The silver-haired girl said with a tone of confident that made Risako blush for some reason. "You always do. And you always will, won't you?"

"Yeah," Risako said. "You're talking weird, Vicchan. Did something happen?"

"No." the girl answered. "Not yet. But it will, and when it does you're going to have to be ready, because if you're not ready I'm afraid something terrible is going to happen to you, to everyone."

"What are you talking about, Vicchan?"

"It's nothing to worry about now, Risako. It's getting late, we should be heading back home soon."

Risako looked up at the sky. But it had been light just a moment ago! She must have been so focused on the game of hide-and-seek that she hadn't even noticed the passing of the hours. Her parents would probably going to scold her when she got home, but then they'd sit down and have a nice dinner and everything would be forgotten.

"Yeah, will you walk home with me? I'm sure mom and dad wouldn't mind having you over for dinner."

"Sorry," There was a trace of sadness in the girl's voice. "I have things I have to do at my own house tonight. Maybe some other time."

"Okay. See you later, Vicchan!"

Risako waved good-bye to her friend and ran in the direction of her home. She was right about her parents not being happy about the hour that she returned home, but as predicted, after receiving a stern lecture her father placed a kind hand on her shoulder and told her that dinner was ready, and together as a family they had the last dinner she could remember being a normal girl.

Because that was the night the Emiyas came to the decision to tell their daughter the truth that she belonged to a family of magus and that she would have to live a second life, hidden from all her friends and everyone else she knew.

Risako awoke, blinking against the sunlight pouring in through the cracked window, and rubbed her eyes groggily for a while until she was ready to get up off the bedroll on the floor. Her eyes finally fell on the digital clock resting on a stool in the corner of the room.

It was already 9:00?

Risako blinked a few more times, thinking she must still be half-asleep.

No mistake. The time was without a doubt 9:00 and she was more than an hour late for school. She threw her sheets off, jumped to her feet in a single bound, and began searching for her school uniform before remembering that her uniform was in her bedroom, and she hadn't gone to sleep in her bedroom. This was a storage shed that her father had used before her as a sort of workshop for tinkering with broken items and practicing magecraft. Now it was being used as her own private school. She had recently installed a bookshelf of tomes that contained a collection of books she had inherited, and beside that, a workbench with a retractable lamp on the wall. In the corner, a motorcycle stood, the engine casing removed and the inner workings exposed. Long ago it had belonged to a yakuza boss who had owned this land, but after he had passed away, it had become her father's.

Realizing she had zoned out, she hurriedly opened the door and made her way into the house, where she found her father in the kitchen chopping up an onion while watching the news on TV in the adjacent room. Seeing her come in, he smiled.

"Morning, sleepyhead." said Shirou Emiya, scraping the onion into a bowl that already had sliced bacon in it. "Your mother slept in, too. Want to be my sous chef this morning?"

"Don't have time dad, late for school!" Risako said, rushing upstairs to her room, quickly changed into her school uniform, grabbed her bag and ran back downstairs to meet her bewildered father, standing at the front door, a towel draped over his shoulder.

"I didn't realize schools were open on Sunday these days."

It took Risako a second to slow down before her father's words to finally caught up

"What?"

"Did you stay up all night working and forget what day it was?" Shirou said, sighing, "Your enthusiasm is admirable, my daughter, but burn the candle from both ends and eventually the wick is going to run out. Should I start waking you up when I get up?"

"I'd die." Risako answered with the utmost certainly, dropping her bag on the floor. She had never been and probably never would be a morning person.

"Anything is possible." Her father said, and then shrugged. "Come on then, it's been a while since your old dad gave you a cooking lesson."

"Alright, alright… just don't expect much." Risako conceded, and followed her father into the kitchen. Her parents were both extraordinary cooks, so it was only natural to think that she would inherit some of that talent, but as it turned out some things were not passed down through genes. The very least she could do was crack some eggs into a bowl, and beat them after fishing bits of eggshell out, and then grate some cheese. Her father reminded her that cooking was good practice for alchemy. So, scratch alchemy from the list of things she would be experimenting with.

"Making an omelet?" Risako asked, looking over the ingredients.

"Close, but not quite." Said her father, as he put a stainless steel skillet on the stove and turned on the gas. "It's called a frittata."

Risako watched her father combine the ingredients in the skillet, and then, using a pair of cooking chopsticks rather than a spatula, he worked a completely different sort of magic than the sort her taught her in secret. She did her best to make note of each step, the quantity of ingredients and the time spent cooking them. She paid attention to the look and smell of the food as it cooked. But even if she copied these steps to the point, it would most likely come out completely burnt.

When it was finished, it looked like an omelet. Or maybe something like cross between an omelet and a quiche. Her father cut a bit off with the tips of his sticks and sampled it, then offered some to his daughter.

"What do you think, Risako? Could it use some pepper?"

"Um… whatever you think, dad." It tasted pretty good to her, but if the master chef thought it was missing something, it probably was. Nodding to himself, her father cracked some pepper over the dish, cut it into wedges, and served them on plates with sliced fruit and cups of hot green tea. Such was a typical breakfast at the Emiya household.

"Dad…" Risako said while they sat down to eat. "When I was younger, was there a girl around my age I'd play with? A girl with silver hair and red eyes?"

Her father stopped eating, his fork hovering mere centimeters from his mouth.

"I'm not really sure." Shirou said, rubbing his head, messing up his fiery hair. "I mean, you weren't really shy when it came to who you played with when you were younger. Mind if I ask what brought this up?"

"I had a dream last night," Risako answered. "But it felt like more than a dream. I saw this girl in my dream, and I felt like I had known her. What was her name…Vicchan?"

As she said the name she found herself thinking how foolish she sounded. That was obviously a childish nickname that her father would have unlikely been privy to, had he even known who she was talking about. As she expected, her father shook his head after mulling over it for a moment.

"Well, I don't remember anyone like that living around here, but memory is a funny thing." He smiled and put a hand on her head, rustling her hair until it looked as unkempt as his own. "I'm sure it'll come back to you with time, Risako. Just don't dwell on it too much; if there's one thing about memories, it's that the more to try to catch them, the surer they'll evade you." He put his hand down and seemed hesitant to continue speaking. "Has… anything else peculiar happened recently? It doesn't have to be big, just something that seemed out of place or out of the norm?"

Now it was Risako's turn to search her memories. "Not really, no."

"Are you still hanging on to that good-luck charm? The one your mother and I gave you when you were younger?" He asked, trying not to make it sound like he was deliberately prodding her for information.

Risako pulled on a chain around her neck, pulling up a sealed silver cylinder inside which something metal rattled, supposedly it was some ancient relic that was somehow supposed to protect her. There were symbols etched into the sides of the cylinder that she couldn't read, but were clearly magical in nature even to a novice.

"Good," her father said, visibly relaxing. "Whatever you do, don't lose that. I doubt you'll ever need it in your lifetime, but you can never be too prepared, right?" He laughed to himself, but his eyes told Risako that there was something he wasn't saying. And her father had never hid anything from her, as far as she knew.

When they were finished eating, her father cleaned up the dishes and went to his bedroom with a cup of tea to wake up her mother.

Her father told her not to dwell too much on it, but for some reason she couldn't get the image of that girl from her dream out of her mind, nor the feeling that something incredible was about to happen.

* * *

At noon, Risako threw on a red hoodie and took to the streets of Fuyuki City. There was a slight chill to the winter air, but despite its name, she had never seen snow fall in her seventeen years of living there. She walked without any real direction, but took in the sights, sounds, smells of the city around her, seeing the familiar faces of neighbors, who waved casually at her as she passed by, as well as some faces she didn't know. It wasn't all that unusual to see people from the foreign side of town in her neighborhood, but she was still nonplussed by the appearance of the man who was walking down the street toward her.

He was tall; more than six feet by a quick estimate, and from the lines and cracks on his face, Risako would have had to put him somewhere between forty and fifty years of age, though he was muscularly built with tanned skin that suggested he was no stranger to manual labor. There was an almost overbearing sense of authority with each step he took - a presence that would probably make people instinctively move aside to clear a path for this juggernaut of a man lest they be knocked aside like bowling pins. And yet despite this, there was an undeniable gentleness in his expression; a serene calmness in the twin emerald orbs that were his eyes. His well-groomed hair was like salt-and-pepper under his brown felt hat and the black coat and pants he wore were perfectly ironed and impeccably clean, as though he had just picked them up from the dry cleaners.

The man's gaze, which had since been aimed at the path directly ahead now turned to Risako, and his gray eyebrows rose just the slightest hint of a millimeter.

"_Buongiorno_," the man said, slowing his pace and doffing his hat out of courtesy, then continued speaking in accented Japanese. "Such a wonderful day, isn't it, young lady? Such a pity it all has to begin on such a nice day, but some things are out of our hands._ Ci vediamo presto._"

"Er, thanks?" Risako replied uncertainly, nodding her head to the strange, if not polite old man, who went on his way without a second glance, humming a tune that she didn't recognize. He was probably off visiting some friend or distant relative, but he had passed several people before her without going out of his way to greet them as he had with her, and she found herself wondering if this qualified as one of those odd occurrences her father had asked her about.

She continued walking, following the road as it curved its way westward, and before long she found herself at the gate of Ryuudouji Temple. A boy, about five year younger than Risako, sat on the front steps of the temple, kicking his bare feet together as he was absorbed in a handheld video game. Or perhaps he was not completely absorbed, because he looked up from the game and jumped up when he saw the unexpected visitor.

"Big Sis!" He shouted, setting his game down and running up to her, flailing his short arms at his sides. "Hey dad, Big Sis is here!"

A bespectacled face emerged from the screen door of the temple – Issei Ryuudou the son of the head priest, and ordained to behis successor. "Ah, Risako, you should have called ahead if you were going to visit. Wait a moment while I bring some refreshments."

"Actually, I was just passing by." Risako started embarrassed, but Issei had already retreated back inside. Issei had been a friend of her father's since his high school days, and the two remained close.

"Big Sis, did you come to play?" The boy asked, apparently not having heard Risako's words. His name was Koharu Michihara, and despite what he had called Issei moments ago, the two were not father and son in earnest. The way Risako had heard it, Koharu was in fact the godson of the head priest. The child's parents had perished in a car accident around seven years ago while he was at school, and none of his other relatives could afford to take him in, so he had been adopted by the temple. However, because of the head priest's duties requiring most of his attention, the responsibility of raising the boy had fallen on Issei's shoulders. Koharu was a bright, well-adjusted kid all things considered, so there must have been some merit in a Buddhist temple.

"I don't see why not," Risako said, kneeling down in front of Koharu while Issei exited the temple with a tray of senbei crackers and cold barley tea, apologizing for the wait. She smiled wryly. She should have expected as much, coming from a temple.

"Anything interesting happen lately…?" Risako asked tentatively, nibbling on the edge of one of the crackers while she watched Koharu play his game, commentating excitedly. Aside from prayer, meditation, and… whatever else they did at a temple, there had to be something to talk about.

"Not much," Issei said, looking up reflectively, his arms crossed. Then, he seemed to remember something suddenly and laughed at himself. "Actually, now that you mention it, there will be a lodger staying in the guest room for a time - a research student from overseas, from what I understand. It came up with such short notice, I almost forgot about it."

"Huh," Risako looked back down to observe Koharu's game, thinking back again to the odd man she had encountered on the road, he hadn't exactly been student material. Professor, maybe. She found herself growing more interested in what kind of person this student might be, to lodge at a temple instead of an inn or a hotel.

After playing catch with Koharu for a while, and then going inside the temple to relax with a cup of iced water, Risako checked the clock on her cellphone and saw that it was nearly after seven. She patted Koharu on the back and thanked Issei for the hospitality before excusing herself and returning to the road, this time returning the way she had come. The sky was getting steadily darker, and although there was probably time enough for a slight detour to the shopping district to grab something more substantial to eat, she was running low on her allowance, and her mother was going to be cooking dinner tonight, anyway. And with that in mind, Risako Emiya began her causal walk home.

It wasn't until about five minutes or so into the walk that she realized something was wrong. Although she hadn't really taken notice of it before, the evening air, which had been filled with various sounds, from the quiet chirping of insects to the distant barking of dogs had all fallen silent, as though they had all been driven to ground. Even the gentle sound of the evening breeze was nonexistent. She searched her memory for a moment, and found the sudden silence and isolation to be one of the most unbearable things she could recall ever suffering. The air grew heavier by the moment as darkness closed in around her.

She remembered her training and steeled her mind, extending her senses outward like a web across her surroundings, all the while trying her best to remain inconspicuous. Something was causing this - something unnatural, and until now she had refrained from using even the smallest magic in public. She had been told that the Magic Association had decided to turn a blind eye to her family's presence in the city, but she didn't know what to think now. If she had encountered a true magus now, there was nothing she, a mere apprentice, could do.

"Why do you look so nervous?"

Her voice caught in her throat, or she would have cried out with surprise. There was a man standing before her beneath a streetlamp. His sullen, gaunt face with its sunken cheeks, beaklike nose and wide, staring pale blue eye eyes made him look wraithlike in the light of the streetlamp. His thin, wispy hair was ghostly white despite his age, which couldn't have been more than thirty, and a single bang fell over his forehead and covered one eye as he cocked his head to the side. A grey woolen cloth was wrapped around his body over a white tunic; a golden clasp on his shoulder held the wrap in place.

What was it with her attracting strange foreigners today? Unlike the old man from the afternoon, however, something about this man terrified her at an almost instinctual level. She wanted nothing more than to run home, or better yet back towards the temple which was closer. But her feet were rooted in place. The moment she saw the man's face, she couldn't look away from those pale eyes, which froze her to the bone worse than the coldest winter she could remember. Gooseflesh covered her arms.

"I think know why," The man admitted grimly, and there was the glint of metal in his hand. Risako could feel her heartbeat in her throat. Polished, razor sharp steel reflected the light of the lamp. "You're guilty about something. If you were innocent you wouldn't have looked so surprised." He was walking forward now, testing the edge of his blade with the tip of his finger. Risako screamed wordlessly at her legs to move, but her body resisted her to no end. It was as though her limbs were completely frozen. And yet there was something warm, still - something warm, pressing against her skin. "I'm really sorry. I'm sorry. If it were my choice I wouldn't be here, but it's not my choice. You're on the list, and anyone on the list can't be here."

He was now standing mere feet before her and Risako could feel the bone-chilling cold emanate from the man's thin figure, which might have done her in there if not for the strange warmth. He spun the blade around in his hand, drew his arm back, and thrust the blade forward. The charm around her neck came out, then. The sigils engraved on its sides glowed brightly, and the approach of the blade seemed to slow, as though everything was happening in slow motion. Something burned against her skin, as though an unseen hand was tattooing something onto the back of her forearm with a hot brand. The pain was enough to make her faint, but somehow she fought against the darkness.

There was a flash of light, the thunderous sound hoofbeats, then shrill clang of steel clashing against steel, and something was in front of her. No, someone.

"That's-!" the man sputtered in confusion as he shrunk away, hiding his dagger away. "But- she didn't even perform the ritual! How is that possible if she didn't perform the ritual?"

"Be silent, assassin." Another voice spoke up, as gentle as a stream and as unyielding as a mountain. Raven-black hair rustled as the speaker turned her head. Fair skin glowed in the lamplight, smooth and unblemished, brown eyes with that were both old and young at the same time set in a face that was beautiful beyond words - once again Risako couldn't find words, but this time for a different reason.

The woman before her was clad for battle. Lamellar armor covered her body shoulder to foot – long spaulders of woven leather hung over her shoulders, while gauntlets of cloth and chainmail protected her arms. A cuirass covered her torso, with a skirt fashioned of leather and scale plate dropping over her hips. Beneath that she wore a snow white kimono, decorated with light blue waves. Across her forehead was a forehead protector of hammered bronze, reminiscent of a tiara, and from is sides hung red ropes with tassels.

In her hands she held an unsheathed katana. Across her back she also bore a nagitana, a longbow of laminated bamboo and a quiver full of arrows.

The gaunt man seemed to be assessing his chances against this woman. It became clear to Risako that the man; shifting uneasily where he stood, was not a fighter, and the woman; confident in posture and stance, had seen more battle than even the most seasoned of veterans. How she had appeared before her in the night and why she protected her against the man who had just now tried to spill her blood, she had no idea, but she soon became aware that whatever spell had been placed over her to inhibit her movement had been broken. She lifted her arm, which was still burning with pain, to her eyes. It was dark, but she still could make out the distinct shape of red markings.

The street was now illuminated by the light of a full moon, which danced off the edge of the woman's sword, making it shine as though it were made of opal. She turned its edge and advanced on the man cautiously. The man, however, sunk into the shadows as though they were a part of his body and as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone. The warrior woman waited for what seemed like hours before sheathing her blade with a single, fluid motion, turning to Risako, and bent the knee.

"My lady," She said, lowering her head, "I, the servant Rider, swear fealty to you from this moment until the day I part this world again. Let us ride forward to victory."

Risako Emiya stood in silent shock afterwards, still holding her arm up to her face, and realized her heart was still beating in her chest like a drum. The question fell awkwardly off her tongue, as though she hadn't spoken in years.

"What?"


	2. The Players Take the Stage

Chapter 2 – The Players Take the Stage.

The old man knelt on the flat roof of a house, overlooking the scene, holding an old, leather-bound spyglass to his right eye. He was not keen on the idea of skulking through the night like some kind of sneak-thief. He was not entirely keen on being chosen for this folly that was called a war either, but he was not one to complain and accurate reconnaissance was a necessary factor in any war.

"Are you there, Saber?" he muttered under his breath.

"Yes, Patrón." A male, disembodied voice echoed quietly beside him.

"What do you make of this?"

"A mere girl." The voice commented offhandedly. "I do sense the taint of magic upon her, though she lacks the Command Seals of a Master."

"They tell me both her parents were Masters in the last war," the man said thoughtfully, lowering the glass to view the street with his own emerald green eyes. "Though the Grail is indiscriminate in whom it ropes into its blood sport, it has seemed to favor heredity before."

"Patrón, there is movement below."

He returned the spyglass to his eye and spotted the robed man appear on the road. The girl stopped, as though paralyzed, even when the robed man produced a curved knife and began to approach her.

"_Yo ruego a Dios_!" The voice beside him gasped. "That is Assassin! Please, allow me to intervene."

"If you were to show yourself in front of that girl, her life will be forfeit, either way." The man rebuked Saber for having forgotten his place. "I was led to believe you were a more talented strategist than that, Saber." No witnesses to the Grail War were allowed to survive, without exception. He was also not ready to reveal himself just yet. Not until he had seen all of the other Masters and their Servants, but he kept that to himself.

"Still, Patrón!" Saber protested. "I cannot stand idly by and watch while innocent blood is spilled!"

The man clenched a hand around his spyglass. It would not be his first choice to use a Command Spell so early in this game, especially knowing not all of the Masters had yet summoned their Servants. But before he could say anything in response the street exploded with a blinding flash of light. It was all he could do to not shout out in surprise, and quickly lowered the glass, but even so he wouldn't be able to see with his right eye for some time.

A figure dressed in Japanese armor now stood between Assassin and the girl. It was a young woman by the looks of it, armed with quite the assortment of killing tools – a sword, a polearm, and a bow. He wondered to himself which of those could be her Noble Phantasm.

"Archer or Lancer, perhaps?" he said aloud. He ruled Saber out, naturally. As far as he knew, only one Servant from each of the seven classes was summoned for every War in the past. He watched with one closed eye as the Servant confronted Assassin, who quickly melted into the night, true to his name.

"What is your command?" Saber asked in a low tone. "The Master appears to be untrained. Be it Archer or Lancer, they will fall before me without fail."

"No," the man replied, considering their position carefully, scratching his beard in thought. "We shall withdraw for now. One battle is enough for one night, and it is still too soon to spill blood."

* * *

It must have been quite the unusual sight, had there been anyone on the road to behold it. Beneath the light of a flickering streetlamp Risako Emiya stood nervously before a woman clad in lamellar armor. She had appeared out of thin air and protected her from a man who had, for reasons unknown, just tried to take her life. The staring pale blue eyes, like torches that marked the gate to Hell were still clear in her mind and she shuddered, trying to push the memory away.

"My lady," the armored woman began, finally breaking the long silence. She was still on one knee, her head bowed low. She spoke it an archaic dialect and for once Risako had found some use for all the period dramas she had watched. "I await your command."

Risako opened her mouth to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. She had questions. So many questions she didn't even know where to begin. The woman had introduced herself as Rider. Was that really her name? Why was she dressed like she had just walked off the set of a samurai film? And most of all, why was she bowing before her?

"Command?" Risako asked uncertainly. "Um, stand up?" As ordered, the woman rose elegantly to her feet – a feat which no doubt must have been difficult under the weight of all the armor and weaponry she carried. From where she stood, Risako could see that the woman wasn't much taller than herself, although somehow she had seemed much taller before. Her brown eyes seemed to be studying Risako passively, perhaps trying to size her up. "Alright then, Rider, could you please start by explaining to me what the heck is going on, here?"

"You summoned me, my lady." The woman who called herself Rider explained, resting her hand on the hilt of her sword, her eyes probing the dark, as though she had heard something. "I am a Heroic Spirit called forth to fight in the battle for the Holy Grail."

"I summoned you?" Risako looked at her apprehensively. "How? I don't think I could summon a gust of wind, much less a spirit."

Rider seemed to be lost in thought for a minute, and then lifted the charm around Risako's neck to her eyes. Her sudden move made Risako jump back with surprise and nearly stumble over, but Rider placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Do not fear, my lady. I will explain everything but it might be wiser to continue where we can be certain no unwelcome ears are listening."

"Call me Risako," Risako said quickly, forgetting her courtesies. It was strange being called 'my lady' over and over again. "My name's Risako. Risako Emiya." It wasn't until the words were fresh from her lips that Risako realized what she had said - not even her close friends or clubmates at school called her by her given name. But it wasn't something she could just take back now.

"Very well, Risako." Rider nodded hesitantly, turning around and taking hold of something in the dark. "The night road is dark and treacherous. Allow me to return you home by horseback."

"Horse?" Risako asked, and as if waiting for that moment, Rider was leading by the reins a mare with beautiful white hair, speckled with brown. Rider stopped the mare just in front of Risako, and without a word lifted her Master up on to the horse's back, then jumped into the saddle, herself.

"Hold on to me tightly." Rider warned before snapping the reins.

The world flew past quickly, and cool air whipped across Risako's face, eliminating her fatigue. She had never ridden on horseback before, much less without a saddle, and she could feel how precariously she was perched on the mare's back. She took Rider's words to heart and wrapped arms around her torso. She didn't know why, but she had a feeling that if she entrusted this woman with her life she would let no harm come to her. With Risako's guidence, Rider brought them safely to the Emiya Reisdence well before 10:00.

"It might be prudent that I return to my spiritual form from here." Rider said, dismounting to helping Risako down. "I will require less prana from you, and it will render me unseen but still present at your side."

"Oh, okay." Risako said, and Rider's body shimmered faintly before vanishing. "I guess you really are a spirit, huh. How am I supposed to explain this to dad?"

Risako opened the front door of the house and walked in, finding her father talking to someone on the phone. Her mother was standing beside him, a fearful look in her eyes, and when Sakura Emiya saw Risako come inside the house, she ran up and threw her arms around her daughter. Shirou said something to whoever was on the phone and hung up.

"Issei called." Her father said in a strangely tight voice. "We were expecting you home over an hour ago."

"I took a detour." Risako said, trying not to look her parents straight in their eyes, or else she might actually let slip everything that had happened. Her eyes fell on the television, which showed a news program with a reporter standing in front of a burning building, surrounded by ambulances and fire engines. It looked kind of like a karaoke box she often went to.

"There was an fire at the shopping district," her mother said quietly. "We were afraid you might have been there."

"Risako, I want you home before sundown tomorrow." Her father said. "No more detours. I'd much sooner leave this city for a while, but that might raise too many questions." He trailed off. "But so long as you're safe, that's all that matters."

Risako warmed her dinner up, and ate silently, wondering if Rider was there. If anyone any one else could tell she was there. If either her mother or father had known, they hadn't said anything, and had not reacted. When she retired to her bedroom, she flopped on top of her bed and let out a long-held sigh. Nothing that had happened seemed real, now that she was safe in her home, in her own room. It all felt like a distant nightmare.

"I believe I promised you an explanation before." Rider said, and with a shimmer of light she was standing beside the bed. "I shall resume where I left off." She had shed her armor and wore only the wave-pattered kimono that had been beneath, and her hair, dark as a raven's wing, was tied back into a ponytail held fast with a bronze clasp. The weapons, too, were gone, and Risako took that to mean that there was no imminent threat to her life.

"Yeah," Risako sat up. So much for it having all been a dream, she thought to herself.

"I was summoned to you by the power of the Holy Grail." Rider explained. "Tis doubtful that all magi of this era together would have enough power to summon a Heroic Spirit such as myself, much less bind one into their service. However, a ritual with a catalyst that represents the Servant you are trying to summon is still necessary. I was intrigued by Assassin's statement that you had not preformed the ritual."

Rider looked at the charm around Risako's neck again. "This is the most likely explanation. Normally the ritual would require a large summoning circle drawn into the ground; however, it has been condensed into the sigils on this charm, and the catalyst encased within. The wearer of the charm is also designated as the Master, and the Command Seals given to them, rather than the original caster."

Risako's head was reeling from all of this. Her parents had given her that charm, had they seriously meant for her to be involved in this? That guy with the knife had tried to kill her! And he would have definitely succeeded, if not for Rider! "Basically whoever gave me this _wanted_ me to summon you?"

"Perhaps," Rider said, crossing her arms. "But unless I'm mistaken, the spell did not trigger until you were attacked by another Servant, which would suggest that the creator of the charm only meant for it to be used as a last resort. In case you were forced into the War against your will."

Risako let out a smaller sigh than before. Okay. So maybe she'd let her parents off the hook. But did that mean they knew? "So, about this war,"

"Indeed," Rider nodded. "The Holy Grail War is a battle between seven magi over possession of the Grail. The magi summon Servants and battle each other - seven Servants for seven Masters - Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster Berserker, and Assassin. The Grail will grant any wish to the one who emerges victorious."

"_Any_ wish?" Risako combed a hand through her hair. This was getting big. "I, well, I don't think I really have a wish that would be worth fighting over. What about you, Rider."

"That is," Rider closed her eyes. "Personal."

"Now that I think about it, is Rider is just your title, isn't it?" Risako propped her chin on top of her hand. "Don't you have a real name?"

"Yes, Risako," Rider said uncertainly. "However, knowledge of my true name means that if an enemy were to somehow learn it from you, they would have a great advantage. Each Servant has a Noble Phantasm that is unique to them and them alone. With knowledge of my identity, an enemy could develop a strategy to defeat that. And though I mean no disrespect, if an enemy were to capture you, I fear you would not last long though an interrogation."

"Ah." Risako smiled bitterly.

"So for the time being, please refer to me as Rider." The raven-haired woman frowned, and her gaze fell. "I truly apologize, Risako. Especially after you entrusted me with your own name, it feels like I have in some way betrayed your trust."

"It's okay." Risako smiled, this time in earnest. "I wouldn't be here if you hadn't come out, so it's the least I can give you."

Rider looked up and returned her smile, and her entire face seemed to brighten at that moment. The warrior maiden who had ridden out of the night to protect her had disappeared, and in her place stood a beautiful young woman with soft eyes and a lovely kimono Risako could never imagine herself wearing.

"When the time comes, I will tell you my name." said Rider. "I promise."

Risako sat on her bed, stating at Rider with a preoccupied expression, now.

"Is there something wrong, Risako?" asked Rider.

"Uh, no it's just-." Risako looked around the room. "Where are you going to sleep?"

* * *

Lancer sat in the garden, playing with his long, black beard, studying at a map of Fuyuki City that had been laid out over a stone.

"Rider has been summoned," he said. "Soon the Masters will all be assembled. Do you understand what that means, young master?"

The boy stood silhouetted in the doorway.

"I understand," he said, putting his small hand on the doorframe. "I'll win this war, and then everything will be like it was. Everyone will be happy again, I swear. And with _you_ as my servant, no one in the world is going to keep me from making my wish."

Lancer was silent for a moment, curling his beard around his finger. He looked up at the countless stars in the sky, and at the moon, at everything hidden by the light of day.

_I don't think you yet understand_. He wanted to say, but only time would tell.

* * *

The girl sat - or rather leaned - against the alley wall. Bandages wrapped around the top of her head, covering everything save for a few stray locks of her short auburn hair, one dark purple eye that stared out into the night, looking but not seeing, and her small mouth that neither smiled nor frowned. Bandages covered most of her right arm and parts of her left leg as well, and something red and wet and warm oozed from them, but she gave them no notice.

"You went too far tonight," she said staring at the passing cars; the street where ambulances and fire engines had been not two hours ago. "Someone might have died who didn't deserve it. You have to be more careful next time."

A massive hand reached out from the darkness. The girl placed her own stained, bandaged hand on it and stroked gently. A voice like the rolling of thunder, or the sound of an avalanche pierced the night, uttering one word. All of the wrath and sorrow in the world was packed into that one word.

"Mo- th- er."

* * *

The last night bus pulled slowly into the station, and eventually its doors swung open with the hiss of hydraulics. Tired passengers streamed wearily out while the intercom thanked them for choosing JR Bus and asked politely for them to ride again soon. They collected their luggage from the attendant waiting outside before streaming into the station.

She was the last one out. Carrying a schoolbag slung over her shoulder. She jumped out of the bus and landed sure-footedly on the pavement with an impish smile, looking up at the glowing sign over the bus stop which read FUYUKI CITY. The attendant looked at her curiously for a moment before asking.

"Do you speak Japanese?"

"I hope so," the girl said, grinning. "I grew up here, you know!"

"Are you alone? Where are your parents?"

"Don't have any." The grin widened. "I'm a student, though. Want to see my ID?"

"Ah- no, I uh, don't think that will be necessary." said the attendant, not used to this sort of situation.

"This is all the luggage I have." The girl said, nodding at her schoolbag before walking off. "I'll be on my way, then. Have a good night, Mr. Bus Man."

"Uh- yes, you too. Have a good night."

The girl walked through the night streets for a while, smiling to herself, whistling a tune only she knew, the long silver ponytail on the side of her head swaying as she walked. She stopped and took in the sights of the city like a sponge, her crimson eyes as wide as the smile on her face.

"Fuyuki City. It's been a while, hasn't it?" She said partly to the city and partly to herself, then started walking again. "Wait for me, Ricchan. This time, I'll find you."


	3. The Heir of Abernethy

Chapter 3 – The Heir of Abernethy

Risako's eyes opened moments before the electronic chime of her alarm clock began and her hand reached out of the blankets with a mind of its own to shut it up before shutting her eyes again, enveloped in the warmth of her bed. Moments later she remembered it was Monday and she opened them again, blinking the sleep out of her eyes as she stretched her arms over her head. That's when she saw the red markings on the back of her left forearm - three markings, to be more precise – like fine scrollwork tattoos, linked together in a shape that vaguely reminded her of a horseshoe. Command Seals, Rider had called them. That last thought reminded her.

"Rider?" she asked, looking around her room.

"Yes?" The raven-haired Servant was seated in an overstuffed chair sitting in the corner, oiling the blade of her sword.

"Did you manage to sleep there?"

"We Servants require neither food nor rest to sustain ourselves," Rider said simply, though her voice and face were no less weary. "And if I slept, there would be no one to stand guard over you. Defensive measures such as boundary fields would would only serve to hinder a Servant such as Assassin for a few fleeting moments. With that said, we need to begin discussing our plan of action."

"What I need to begin," Risako said, throwing her sheets off and climbing out of her bed with a huff and opened the door to her wardrobe, locating her school uniform. "Is getting ready for school,"

"School?" Rider echoed, following her Master across the room. "You attend a school?"

"Yeah," Risako said, pulling her uniform off the hanger. "Most kids do, this day and age."

"I knew that much," Rider muttered, looking away, attempting to hide the redness that was spreading across her cheeks. "But such distractions may adversely affect our chances of winning. Can you not feign illness or something of the like?"

"And how long would I have to keep that up?" Risako asked. "I've got pretty good attendance right now, but don't really want to risk being held back a grade. Besides, what could possibly happen at school?"

"You'd risk far worse if you were to be caught unawares," Rider sighed, putting her sword away. "It is unlikely you would be attacked during the daylight hours, though all the same I must insist on keeping watch over you at all times. There are most likely spies about."

Risako smiled wryly. For being her alleged guardian, Rider had a rather peculiar way of making her feel quite vulnerable.

Risako washed and dressed herself, relieved that the long sleeves of her uniform covered her Seals. It would have been difficult explaining them away if a teacher happened to see them, as they looked like tattoos. After breakfasting with her parents, who seemed to be oblivious to Rider's presence, Risako grabbed her school bag and make off for Homurahara Academy, her Servant trailing close behind. Rider had retained in her spirit form so she could infiltrate the school building and remain by Risako's side unseen.

"I don't sense any other magi in the vicinity," Rider reported after they had walked for a time.

"Maybe they're all sleeping in? That would make sense if they stay up all night fighting each other." Risako suggested when she noticed some of her friends from the Kendo Club, one of whom waved at her to come join them. She hurried up the street to meet them, and caught part of their conversation.

"Did you hear about what happened at Niko's?" One of the girls asked. That was the name of the karaoke box that had caught fire last night.

"They're saying it was a gas explosion or something, but my friend's boyfriend was there. He's in the hospital right now, but he's saying there was some huge shadow running around, grabbing people, breaking arms and legs and stuff."

"A shadow?" one of the other girls said, with a tone of disbelief. "Sounds like someone's trying making some urban legend out of this."

Risako glanced back at Rider, who was walking quietly behind them, invisible to anyone but her. The Servant seemed to be listening to the gossip with a pensive look when her gaze met that of her Master's.

"This place seems worth investigating," Rider whispered to Risako. "It's possible that this incident is the doing of another Servant."

Risako nodded and then remembered how her father had put a curfew on her and bit her lip.

"What're you looking at, Risako?" the nearest of her friends asked.

"Oh, nothing," she smiled. "Thought I saw someone I knew."

Once the school gates were in sight the group disbanded to go to their individual classrooms. Risako took the stairs up to the second floor, found her room and took her seat toward the center of the class. Rider informed her Master that she intended to scout out the premises for any irregularities and once Risako gave her another nod the kimono-garbed Servant was off.

The homeroom teacher was the last to enter the room. Morita was his name; a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, a lopsided smile and a pair of round wireframe glasses. He quickly took his place at the front of the classroom and leaned up against the long table that sat behind him.

"I know this is somewhat unusual, being this late into the semester," Morita began after the class had settled. "But we'll be having a new student joining us today. She's an exchange student from overseas, so I'd like you to all make her feel welcome."

_A student from overseas, _Issei Ryuudou's voice echoed in her memory, but she shook her head. It couldn't possibly be the same.

Morita made a beckoning gesture, and moments later the door slid open to admit a girl who swiftly entered the room, stopped in front of the blackboard, wrote out her full name in katakana in a series of practiced motions and finally swung around to face the class, the ponytail on the side of her head swishing about as she did so. It was all Risako could do to not jump out of her seat.

The girl was older than the one who she had seen in her dream, her hair was much longer, and the crimson red eyes had a mischievous gleam that hadn't been there in the dream. The girl in the dream had been small, short of hair, and doe-eyed. But something inside Risako yelled at her that the two were one and the same. On the blackboard the name read clearly.

Vivian Justina von Einzbern

The girl's red eyes flitted across the faces of her fellow students until they finally fell on Risako's and she spoke.

"My name is Vivian Justina von Einzbern," the girl introduced herself eloquently, sounding as though she had practiced her greeting many times, her Japanese bearing only the smallest trace of an accent. "I was born in Nuremberg, Germany, but I moved to Japan with my family when I was little. I even spent some time here in Fuyuki City, so it's really nice to be back again. My hobbies are playing the piano and listening to music. I hope we'll all get along from now on, and if I make any mistakes, just bear with me, okay?"

She said the last bit with a charming smile, and the girl named Vivian bowed, and the class burst into applause, only to be silenced by Morita, who pointed out an empty seat in the row behind Risako's. Vivian smiled – an expression that seemed to come as easy to her as breathing – and weaved her way through the rows of desks until she came to pass Risako's seat.

"_Later._" Risako thought she heard the whispered words, but before she could turn around to respond, Vivian was already seated comfortably at her new desk, looking ahead as though nothing had had happened. For a moment she thought she saw her red eyes glance in her direction and an impish grin play across her lips, but it might have been her imagination.

When homeroom was finished, as soon as Morita had left the room, Vivian Justina von Einzbern's desk was surrounded by students clamoring to ask her questions, and the boys in the class in particular seemed most the interested in making her feel at home. One would think they'd never seen a girl before.

"That one possesses an unusual level of magical energy." Rider said, and Risako nearly jumped out of her seat again. When had the Servant returned?

"Warn me next time you do that." Risako said, covering her mouth so it wouldn't look as though she was talking to herself. "What are you saying? She's a magus?"

"What I'm saying is that you need to be more cautious, Risako." Rider gave the silver-haired exchange student a piercing look, though Vivian did not seem to notice her any more than the rest of the class. "This place may not be as safe as you think it is. We should discuss our plans whenever you have a sufficient amount of time available to yourself."

"I guess I'll be having lunch somewhere else, then." Risako sighed as the teacher for the next class entered. Today would be a bread and juice box day, it seemed.

After the bell for lunch sounded Risako quickly gathered her things and was heading for the door when she saw Vivian, who was chatting amiably with a small group of girls who had quickly taken to her. The silver-haired girl didn't seem to be paying attention to her so without a word Risako left the room and made her way for the cafeteria to buy her bread, looking forlornly at the meager contents of her purse.

"I think I might know her," Riako eventually said, knowing Rider would be close behind her. "I don't know why, but I'm certain I've met that girl a long time ago. She's different, but at the same time it's like she's so familiar."

"You don't sound very certain," Rider observed.

"I had a dream, but I think it was more like a memory," Risako tried to explain, but even as the words came she knew how odd it sounded. "It was the night before I summoned you, Rider."

"And until this moment you had no memory of this girl?"

"I don't know." Risako shook her head. "It was a long time ago."

It was early enough that the line which had formed at the cafeteria was not so long that they had to wait for any great length of time, and Risako grabbed a bag of curry-filled bread and a box of apple juice and paid for them, holding her remaining 500 yen in the palm of her hand. Why was everything so expensive, anyway? Maybe she could ask her father to pack her lunches.

With that sour note on her mind, she took her spoils out of the cafeteria and made her way upstairs and towards the roof. The service exit was unlocked as usual, and most likely there would be no one out there to listen to her speaking to Rider. Risako shut the door behind her, being careful to set a small rock in the corner of doorframe so it wouldn't shut her out, and she sat down with her back against the wall, splitting the seal of her bread and sticking the straw into her juice box.

"A pleasant view," Rider was saying as she walked toward the edge of the roof.

"So, you wanted to make plans?" Risako bit into her bread and washing it down with a sip of juice, "I guess you're going to say we should go to the shopping district and snoop around the scene of that fire. But I've got a curfew now, remember?"

Rider turned to her. "I should be able perform the search alone, but I worry that Assassin may have located your residence. If he attacks, I won't be able to return in time to help you."

Assassin - those pale eyes flashed before her once again and Risako suddenly felt ill. She set her bread down and breathed, realizing she had forgotten to do so for a few seconds. She'd had a nightmare of that chill paralyzing her, and that cold knife cutting through her as she stood helpless, unable to do anything because Rider did not appear. She hadn't said anything, but if she'd tossed and turned and talked in her sleep, her Servant would have probably known how terrified she was of that gaunt, robed man.

"Stay with me." Risako said, almost pleadingly, biting her lip. She wrapped her arms around her knees, wishing that she would never have to feel that helpless again. Rider didn't say anything for a time, but then nodded.

* * *

Lord Aiden Stanford Abernethy sat at the long table reading over reports. Reconnaissance reports, budget reports, discipline reports, reports, and more bloody reports. He sighed and rubbed his eyes and propped his feet up on the table.

"Isn't this work that my elder brother should be doing?" He asked, finding a cup of hot coffee near his foot, and leaned forward to pick it up, but it was out of reach and there was no way he would be putting his feet down just to get a cup. He had an image to maintain.

"When you inherited father's Crest you inherited all the responsibilities of running the Abernethy family." Crawford Vincent Abernethy said diplomatically, pushing the cup into his younger brother's reach. He laughed. "I can't say I very much envy you, Aiden. I've been training for this since I can remember, it's almost liberating that someone else has to do it."

"That is why I chose you to be my advisor, Crawford," Aiden took a sip of his coffee, found it to be too hot and blew on it. "So, advise me."

"Our scouts have sighted some of Cianáin's men in the south." Crawford said. "It seems Cianáin has also succeeded in summoning his own Servant. With that, it leaves only one remaining. It also seems as though the Emiya girl is still alive."

"I can't say I'm too concerned about that at the moment," Aiden set his coffee back down and lowered his feet swiveling his chair to the third man, seated to the left, looking down at the curved knife as he was spinning it around with the tip of his finger. He was almost relieved that he didn't have to wake up with the blood of a seventeen year old girl on his conscience that morning. "Though I'm hardly impressed with this Assassin I have summoned. What happened? You ran away as soon as another Servant bared its fangs at you?"

"My curse no longer had any effect on the girl," The pale-eyed man mumbled, picking up the knife. "And her Servant would have walked away with my head had I lingered. Had I stayed, I would not have stood a chance against her Servant." He jabbed the knife into the table with a look of wrath.

"Please don't damage the furniture any further, Assassin" Aiden said, rubbing the temples of his head and looked at his two remaining Command Seals. He'd already used one to ensure that his own Servant wouldn't stab him to death in his sleep. Something had gone awry during the ritual and he'd been left with an unstable Servant. "Anyways Crawford, I wand constant surveillance on that girl, and keep surveillance on the surveillance. The Cianán and Einzberns seem to think she's important, and Father hasn't decided whether that means we should keep her alive or kill her now."

Crawford smiled and nodded his head. "Whatever you say, little brother."

* * *

Risako had finished her lunch and was making her way back to the classroom when she noticed someone standing in the hallway; the girl who had joined the class today, Vivian Justina von Einzbern. It looked like she was waiting for someone.

When Risako walked past her she heard the girl's voice behind her.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, Risako," she said. "Didn't I tell you we'd talk later?"

"Did you?" Risako turned around, and blinked. "And how do you know my name?"

"How do I know…?" Einzbern looked as though the words had been a slap in her face. She took a step forward. "Don't you remember me, Risako?"

Risako took a quick glance beside her. Rider had her hand over the hilt of her sword and was watching the snowy-haired girl, but hadn't made any other move. She shook her head at her Servant and looked at the girl in front of her. "You're… Vicchan?"

Einzbern didn't say anything at first, but then she laughed. "It's been a very long time since I've been called that. Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"I wasn't sure," Risako said. "I thought it was just a dream."

"So you don't remember." Einzbern's shoulders seemed to sag slightly, but then she looked up and smiled. "I don't blame you, though. There was nothing you could have done about it, anyway. I-" The bell signaling the end of lunchtime chimed just then, and cut off whatever she was about to say. "Well, I suppose we should be getting back to class, then. We'll talk again later, Risako."

* * *

Aiden walked through the burned halls of the castle with the whimsical feeling of being inside a haunted house, except there were no real ghosts here besides the illusionary ones they had set up to discourage intruders. Still, he did get the unmistakable feeling that he was being watched from the shadows sometimes. Probably by that deranged Servant of his.

"You're alone, how rare."

Aiden spun on the voice and drew the one-sided shortsword from his belt, then lowered it. "Oh, it's just you."

Standing in the door-less doorframe of one of the castle's many rooms was the man he knew only as the Moderator. He was the one the new Three Families had chosen to oversee this Grail War. He wasn't from the Church, that much Aiden knew. He was asian, shorter than Aiden by about three inches, though he had a commanding presence that made it feel almost as if the young magus was looking up at the man. His jet black hair was knotted back into a tight ponytail and he had a well-trimmed mustache and pointed beard on the tip of his chin. His clothing was typical business fare – black suit over a white shirt and black pants, all ironed smooth. It had made Aiden wonder for a moment if the families had gotten some local yakuza to supervise things, but he told himself that was ridiculous.

"It's just me," the Moderator said disarmingly, holding his hands up. "And likewise it's just you. Isn't that older brother of yours never far from your side?"

"He has better things to do than babysit me." Aiden said, disregarding the ill-mannered way this man was addressing the next . "I wasn't expecting a visit from you. Has anything happened?"

"Six out of the seven Servants have been summoned," the Moderator said with that devilish grin he had when he seemed to be pleased with something. It made Aiden uneasy. "Half of these Masters aren't even legitimate magi, so there is no telling how long it will be before they make a move. So, I have been considering the possibility of arranging the first official battle of this War. Disregarding your own Servant's little encounter, of course."

"Can you even do that?" Aiden asked, lowering his voice. "I was under the impression you were supposed to be a neutral, disinterested party."

"You're forgetting these are no longer the days when the Church looked over the shoulders of you magi." The Moderator said, stroking his beard with his thumb and forefinger. He looked down at the weapon in Aiden's hand. "And I find war to be _very _interesting, lordling. Now, that's quite the fine sword you have, there."

"It is called the Aegis Adamant," Aiden said quietly, sheathing it. "The ancestral blade of my family."

"A sword with the name of a shield," the Moderator laughed to himself. "Now that's an interesting choice. Any reason it's called that?"

"My family has a saying that a sword should only be picked up in defense of another," Aiden answered, quoting the words that his father had told him when he was a child. "The knight's oath is to fight for the sake of those who cannot fight for themselves, to protect the innocent."

"But you're not a knight, you're a lordling," the man remarked with that annoying self-satisfied smirk of his. "Have you ever used that to draw the blood of another?"

Aiden said nothing, but his continued silence said more to the man than words.

"I thought as much," the Moderator laughed, and he clapped his hand on Aiden's shoulder. "Think on what I said before about arranging the battles. I'm certain you won't be disappointed by the outcome."


	4. Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 4 – Calm Before the Storm

The girl rested on the bed of cardboard boxes that lay in the dark corner of the abandoned building which she had come to know as home whenever she wasn't wandering the midnight streets, foraging for whatever scraps of food she could find. It was dark, yet surprisingly dry aside from a few patches on the ceiling that leaked whenever it rained, and it wasn't too cold, either. She tugged on one of the bloodstained bandages on her arm to look at the red marking on her left arm. The girl couldn't remember how it got there, and when she tried all she got as a reward for her effort was a blinding headache that made her want to lie down and curl up into a ball in her corner.

The other one was there as well. She didn't know his name or even if he had a name, but she knew he was the only friend in ally she had in this world and if she were to leave his side she would most certainly die. She hardly remembered her own name, for that matter, though it didn't really matter much to her now, anyway.

Raika… yes, that sounded right. She wasn't completely certain, but it seemed to her that her name was Raika. Or it had been, when she had someone to call her Raika. The one who had appeared that day had called her 'Mother' for some reason. She didn't think she was his mother, though. That just didn't make sense. He was bigger than her, and probably much older than her, but he had appeared where no one had been before so perhaps she was in some way responsible for his coming into his world. Yes, that seemed right to her for some reason.

He was a shadow, a shadow that looked like a man one moment and a beast the next, constantly changing and shifting as though he was indecisively trying on clothes for dinner. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that any other person should fear him, and flee in terror at the mere sight of him lest he grab them and eat them whole. But she wasn't any other person. She knew whatever happened he would not raise a hand against her, and she would be safe so long as she was in his shadow.

Raika rolled over on her bed and thought about how she had come to be here. She vaguely remembered her house, which sat on a hill somewhere in town, but she couldn't remember where. She tried to recall her parents, though their faces were hazy, like some grey fog was blocking her sight. When she tried to remember, her head began to throb and she felt ill in her stomach so she would let it go, a wasted effort.

Her companion sat in the darkness beside her, breathing slowly. Maybe he was asleep. Or maybe he was sick. He hadn't eaten anything she had given him, and fear took hold of her like cold talons. If he died she would be alone - forever alone.

"So, you must be the Master of Berserker, eh?"

The voice came from somewhere close. Raika sat up with a start, and her companion's eyes flew open like two flames in the blackness. A shadowy fist, larger than her head lunged out with the force of a battering ram and struck something that shimmered bright and blue, shaped like a dome. It crackled with electricity, creating just enough light for Raika to glimpse the two people standing over her - a man and a woman.

The man had messy dark brown hair streaked with red that hung over his green eyes, and a hooked nose with an old scar running to the right of it. There was something about the man's smirking face that reminded Raika of a fox and she found herself mistrusting him before he so much as spoke a word. And if she thought the man's hair was strange, the woman's hair was stranger by far - golden on one side of her head and light blue on the other. Her gold eyes seemed to regard her as though she were one of the bugs crawling across the ground at her feet.

"Now that's not the way you greet your friends, now is it?" The man said, and turned to the woman beside him. "_Maith thú_, Caster. A second later and that would have no doubt turned my head into a messy pulp."

"How did you do that?" Raika asked. It felt strange talking to anyone other than her friend. This man she didn't know called himself her friend, but she knew better than to trust him.

"I'm a _sorcerer_!" the man turned back to Raika and smiled, opening his arms dramatically wide as though he intended to embrace her. Raika only watched him suspiciously for a while until he made a little frown and lowered his arms, scratching his head. "You see, it had come to my attention that the two of us share a common goal, and though individually we have little hope of winning, together we might be able to compensate for each other's disadvantages - the magical power of my Servant and the brute strength of yours."

"You talk a lot."

"You have no idea." She heard the woman beside him mutter.

"Well, yes, I suppose I do, it's a bit of a character flaw on my part," the strange man chuckled. "_Ar aon nos_… I seem to have forgotten the order of things, so allow me to introduce myself. I, Deasmhumhnach mac Éinri Cianán, descendant of the last true king of Cúige Mhumhain, am at your service. It's a bit of a mouthful, I know, so you may call me Desmond if you like."

"Oh." Raika wondered which she should use. Both were kind of difficult to pronounce, stupid foreign names.

"A lady of few words, you seem to have left me at a bit of a disadvantage." Desmond carried on while Raika watched him as though he were a strange sideshow. "Words have power and names doubly so, therefore I have given you a certain level of power over me. I believe the people of this land refer to it as 'kotodama'. Perhaps as a means of compensation you can impart to me your own name, so that we can be equal?"

Something told her that even if she told her his name there would be nothing equal about them, but she decided to tell the man anyway. It seemed to be the only way she was going to get him to leave her alone, but when she spoke her name, she sounded more uncertain than she had intended.

"Raika?"

"Was that a question?" Desmond looked at her uncertainly. "Forgive me, my dear, I have no more knowledge of your identity than you do, hence why I asked the question."

"It's my name." Raika hesitated. "I think."

"I see," Desmond chuckled, all the while lifting his hands up as though he could ward off some of the young girl's spite that was aimed at him. "Well then, tentatively-named Raika, what do you say to my proposition? If we were to combine our powers, I am certain this war will be in the bag, so to speak."

"What war?"

Desmond was quiet for a half second, then blinked. "The Holy Grail War."

"What's that?"

"Er, Miss Raika, you _did _summon that Servant there, did you not?" Desmond asked hesitantly, narrowing his brown eyes at the shadow, an indistinct shape darker than the darkness around it.

"Did I?" Raika shook her head, not knowing. "He's not my servant or anything. He's more like my friend, I suppose?"

"Huh." Desmond's hand went up to his forehead and a sigh escaped his lips. He turned to the woman standing beside him, who had been silently listening throughout the entire exchange, her golden eyes moving back and forth between the two speakers, and he spoke to her using words that Raika did not understand.

"What are your thoughts on this, Caster? Can this girl truly be the Master of Berserker?"

"The Grail decides who bears the title of Master, regardless of their value," the woman answered after a moment of consideration, her golden eyes now seeming to see Raika for the first time. "There are a number of ways for Command Seals to change hands, many of them not very pleasant for the original owner. It's not unfeasible that another preformed the summoning ritual and is using her as some kind of proxy."

"Why?" Desmond asked

"How the hell should I know?" Caster sounded disinterested, though there was a definite edge to her voice. "You asked me a question, I told you what I knew, take it or leave it."

"Berserker is arguably the strongest out of the seven Servants," Desmond considered the girl, sitting on her pile of cardboard. "I find it difficult to believe that some homeless girl who appears to have to knowledge of magic could control the beast."

"The Servant is in a weakened state," the woman observed. "The girl is supplying Berserker with pranic energy, though it is only enough to sustain it, and it appears to be taking a toll on her body. I believe even I could dispose of both with relative ease."

"That would almost be a mercy, though it would disrupt my plans, somewhat." Desmond sighed, then turned back to Raika, knelt down to her eye level and began speaking so she could understand him again. "Tell me, Raika, how would you like to learn magic?"

"Magic?" Raika looked at Desmond with suspicious eyes. Why was he talking to her like she was some child he was offering candy to?

"Yes," Desmond smiled. "_Muinín dom_, it's quite easy if you have the right teacher, and I just so happen to be a _sorcerer_ of some merit. So all you have to do is promise to lend me your support when the time comes, and I will teach you all the magic you could ask for."

"Help you?" Raika peered through the darkness at Desmond. She still didn't like his fox-like smile, and he spoke words that she didn't understand in front of her. That alone made him difficult for her to trust, and she didn't trust most people. "Could you teach me how to do that thing you did before?"

"That's right," Desmond nodded, though Caster gave him an incredulous look. "And I'm not even asking you to risk anything, either. All you have to do is lend me the strength of that Servant. You see, there are some rather unpleasant people here who would like to see both of us dead, and the best way to survive is to band together."

"Who would want me dead?" Raika asked, frightened.

"Other mages," Desmond explained with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "I did tell you we're fighting a war, didn't I? You don't have to give me your answer now, but when you make up your mind, you can get in touch with me using this." He dug a small stone disk out of his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it with both hands, and looked curiously at the queer markings carved around it.

"Runes," he said as though he could hear her unspoken question. "Just hold that in your hand and think 'Desmond' and I'll be on my way to hear your answer, understand?"

Raika said nothing for a while, staring down at the strange stone in her hands. When it looked as though Desmond was about to turn and leave, she looked up.

"Okay."

* * *

Risako hurriedly put her books away and got up from her seat when the last class of the day had come to an end.

"You're going home already?" One of her classmates asked. Risako recognized her as one of the girls from the Kendo Club. "You should come by the dojo today for practice. It's been a long time since you last held a shinai, you know."

"Sorry, there's something I have to take care of at home." Risako smiled, though inside she wasn't all that happy about things. That had sounded like a sorry excuse. She knew she had been going to club less often lately since she had decided to focus on her magical training, and now thank to the curfew her father had dropped on her, it would be more difficult. Before she left the classroom Risako turned around and added, "I'll try to stop by next time, okay?"

Risako waved and left the classroom to make her way down to the school gates, aware that Rider had joined her along the way.

"You practiced kendo?" Rider asked with a tone that would have been easy to take for disbelief.

"My father once told me that magic is a battle within oneself. He said that picking up a martial art would be good mental training. Having good mental discipline is an important part of learning magic, since one wrong step can mean your life." She laughed. "Actually, I just thought it would be cool to wear a kendogi and swing a shinai around."

"Your father gave you sound advice." Rider nodded, and looked at Risako. "A bamboo sword will do naught in a true battle, though if you would like, I shall lend you my hand in your practice."

"I'm bet you could think of better things to do than teach me." Risako snuck a furtive glance at Rider as the spirit walked beside her. She's lost track of the number of times she'd puzzled over who Rider had been in life, and wanted to prove herself worthy of sharing that knowledge somehow. Perhaps, she thought, if she could show Rider that she was capable of protecting herself, the Servant might consider revealing her name.

"I am your Servant," Rider said. "I can think of no better way to spend my time than to serve you, Risako."

"Really?" was Risako's bemused reply. She jumped up onto a stone ledge that ran parallel to the sidewalk and walked across it with her arms out for balance. "Isn't there something you want to do for yourself?"

"I am saving that for when and if the Grail is in our hands." Rider said.

_I'm not getting anything out of her that way_, Risako thought to herself with a sigh of resignation as she hopped back down to the ground when the ledge ended. That was when she heard the approaching footsteps, louder than they had any right to be. A tall man was walking slowly towards them, clad in flowing green and blue silk robes trimmed with gold, patterned with the images of serpentine dragons coiled around each other. The luxurious jet black beard that grew down well below his waist swayed with each step he took, and blade of the long polearm he carried on his shoulder was covered with a layer of cloth that wrapped around it like a cocoon, held tight with a hempen rope at both ends.

"Risako, stay behind me." Rider materialized herself and moved in front of Risako and held her arm out to stay her. There was an edge to her voice that made Risako anxious. "That man is a Servant of overwhelming power."

"I thought you couldn't fight each other except at night." Risako asked, feeling her chest tighten.

"In the past, this would be true." Rider said, not moving an inch. She looked up and down the street, and saw that that it was mostly empty, save for a few people in the distance. But what good would it do to call out to them? "It was a rule to prevent the casualties of innocents. Risako, can you read that Servant's status? I would like to be certain of his strengths before I must confront him."

"I can do that?"

"It's an ability bestowed to all Masters fighting for the Holy Grail." Rider assured her with a nod. "Focus on the Servant and try visualizing it in your mind's eye."

Risako closed her eyes and tried doing as Rider had said. To her surprise, an image emerged from behind her eyes, showing a silhouette of the Servant against a bank of data regarding its strengths and abilities. It reminded her greatly of a status screen from one of Koharu's games, though much of the information was undefined, such as his class skills, personal skills, and Noble Phantasm, whatever that was. Regardless, she could clearly read the Servant's class and some of his parameters. What any of it meant was anyone's guess.

"Lancer," Risako told Rider, opening her eyes.

"As I suspected, one of the three knight classes," Rider said. "Agile, deadly even from a distance, he specializes in middle to long range attacks, so whatever you do, stay well away from him. He has concealed that weapon of his, so it must be his Noble Phanstasm and recognizable enough to betray his identity."

"Noble Phantasm?"

"A weapon that embodies the essence of the Servant's legend," Rider explained hastily. "By releasing their true names, a Servant can unleash a powerful attack, but as the Noble Phantasm is so intimately connected to the Servant's identity, using it would be as good as telling the enemy who they are. So they are best used as a last resort."

"Very true," the man interjected, curling his beard around his finger as he came to a stop about five meters away from the two. He peered at them both with eyes a dark as coal. "But what if I am only covering my weapon to mislead you? What if my Noble Phantasm is something else? It need not be a physical object."

"It was very kind of you to hold back your attacks while I informed my Master of the finer points of battle."

"It would not be honorable to attack an opponent whose hands were empty." Lancer tossed his beard back, as a lady might toss back her hair. "And I will have you know I have not come here with the intention of fighting you, especially in broad daylight. It is not my desire to bring bystanders into this conflict, though now that I think on it, a sparring match would be more than welcome before the war begins in truth to warm up these old muscles. Do you know of a place we can trade blows in private?"

"I believe there is a forest on the outskirts of this town that should suffice."

"_Begins in truth_!?" Risako suddenly blurted out. "Do you mean that when Assassin came for me, this war hadn't even started yet?"

"Assassin's way of doing things is not the same as the others," Lancer replied, unfazed by the outburst. "His lot is treacherous and craven by nature and will resort to any number of underhanded tactics to gain the advantage. Attacking an unarmed girl, alone on a dark street would come as easy to him as breathing."

"If you're not here to fight, then what is it you came for?" Risako asked. "And where is your Master? I'd like to meet whoever I'm supposed to be fighting face to face."

"I have come to evaluate the other Servants and their Masters on his behalf, to determine if any of them are worthy opponents, and fit to take possession of the Grail." Lancer said, shifting the weight of his polearm to his other shoulder. "It is tedious work, not fit for one such as my Master."

"Others might take that as an invitation to send their dogs out to cut his throat." Rider pointed out.

"My master is well protected - only a fool would attempt to move on him. And I do not intend to stay gone for long." Lancer lifted the polearm from his shoulder and planted the shaft of it into the ground with a loud _thump_. "Tell me which of those three weapons of yours is your Noble Phantasm and I will uncover my spear."

"You are assuming that _any_ of these weapons are my Noble Phantasm," Rider smiled. "And that's hardly any way to speak in front of a lady."

"Interesting," Lancer chuckled, hefting the polearm back onto his shoulder. "I see you have some fire in you. It reminds me of a certain lady I knew in my last life, as headstrong as her brother. Shall we relocate to that forest you spoke of? I find myself eager to test your skill. Don't worry, I'm only interested in fighting you, no harm will come to your Master."

"I have no objection, so long as we part ways before sunset." Rider acquiesced, and gestured to the south.

"Quite," Lancer inclined his head. "My Master becomes most displeased with me if left alone for any length of time. Let us make this match a quick one."

Risako walked between the two Servants, feeling the sweat bead on her forehead despite the chill in the air. She tried using the vision she had used on Lancer again, though the result was no different. She then tried using it on Rider. She was able to see more than she had been able to discern from Lancer, such as how Rider's skill in Riding was at Rank B, She assumed that must be a good thing, though her Noble Phantasms were as unknown to her as Lancer's had been.

"Do you mind if we talked for a time, young lady?" Lancer asked. "I haven't had the opportunity to speak to many other people aside from my Master."

"I don't mind."

"Tell me, how do you feel, being forced to fight in a war that has nothing to do with you? To risk your life and future for something you can't even be certain exists?" Risako was surprised when she realized Lancer's question was directed towards her.

"Well, it has to exist, doesn't it?" Risako shrugged. "The fact that you're here in this world is proof enough isn't it?"

Lancer stroked his beard as he walked. "Indeed, the Grail is the vessel by which we, the contradictions that we are, are allowed to exist. You have answered only half of my question."

"It _does_ have something to do with me," Risako said, wondering how much she should be telling someone who may well be her enemy. "Someone sent Assassin to kill me for a reason. I wasn't even a Master, then."

"So, even if you had the option of forfeiting, would you still choose to stand and fight?"

Risako looked at Lancer apprehensively. This was the first time she had heard about having such an option. "And what would happen to," she stopped herself before she said the word Rider. "What would happen to my Servant if I were to forfeit?"

Lancer chuckled and Rider gave them both an indecipherable look. "Smart girl, one slip of the tongue and I would have known your Servant's class. The answer is, without master to provide a supply of prana and anchor them to this era, your Servant would inevitably disappear."

"I see," Risako muttered, looking down at ground, which had changed from paved sidewalk into moist earth, grass, and dried leaves and in place of houses around them stood trees. There were only a few at first, but the forest grew denser as they went on. "Then the answer is no, I wouldn't betray my Servant's wish for the Grail for my own reasons. I'll fight."

"An admirable sentiment," said Lancer. "But would you still choose to fight even if that meant killing another person?"

"I don't know," Risako hadn't even considered the idea that she might have to take another person's life. Someone had tried to kill her already, though now that she thought about it, she didn't know if she could even truly wish to that person dead. She shook her head. "Would it even come to that? No one said anything about killing people."

"It is the soul of Servants that the Grail requires, yes." Lancer stroked his beard. "But as targets, Masters a far less difficult to kill than Servants, and as I said before without a master Servants are as good as dead. You will find most Masters chose the path of least resistance in these circumstances." He saw the sharp look Risako gave him. "If you think I am leading you out into this forest to kill you, you are quite mistaken. I am only interested in fighting warriors. Mages do not make worthy opponents. And besides, I swore you no harm"

"Will this suit our purpose?" Rider's voice cut in. Lancer took a look around at the clearing they had come to and nodded with satisfaction.

"It will suffice, yes." Lancer lifted the polearm from his shoulder and spun it around in slow circles. "Choose whatever weapon you wish. I will keep my blade hidden."

Risako stood under the shade of a cedar as Rider drew her sword from its scabbard and fell into a ready stance, and the lamellar armor appeared over her kimono with a flash of light. She watched her Servant slowly circle around Lancer, not once taking her eyes off the two combatants. This would be the first time Risako saw Rider fight in truth, since Assassin had fled the moment she had appeared, and she was perhaps as anxious to witness her Servant's abilities as Lancer.

When Rider finally moved, Risako felt herself jump. Fallen leaves blew upward as Rider launched herself at Lancer faster than she could have believed. Lancer held his weapon out to meet the attack and the two clashed for an instant before pulling away and prepared for another go. Once, twice, three times Rider's blade struck against the shaft of Lancer's polearm, and she nimbly evaded the blows that Lancer returned at her in kind, occasionally parrying and then lunging closer only to be beaten away again.

Risako was surprised how quickly Lancer handled his weapon despite its length. It seemed that once Rider closed the distance between herself and Lancer, she should have the advantage, but it was not so. Lancer's polearm was just as effective at close range as it was from a distance, and he twirled around as though dancing, throwing up clouds of leaves as Rider attacked from all sides, trying to use her smaller stature and swifter movements to her advantage, but it turned out to be futile.

"You do have some skill, I grant you." Lancer said in between attacks. From the way he spoke, Risako could have thought the man was enjoying himself.

"You honor me with your words," Rider answered, parrying a flurry of thrusts that shot out at her like a pneumatic hammer.

"But somehow I get the impression you are holding back." Lancer went on, sweeping his polearm down at Rider's legs. "You're not afraid you're going to harm me, are you?"

"Nothing of the sort," Rider retorted, jumping away from the attack and then blocking a follow-up attack as the polearm swept back up. "Likewise, I get the feeling you aren't taking this match seriously. Twice now you could have finished me."

"So you'd noticed that." Lancer swatted away two more of Rider's strikes as though he were swatting at flies. "I hadn't realized we were being serious. If you are this serious about protecting your Master, she might as well give up this battle."

This comment seemed to sting Rider, and shouting some warcry she threw herself at Lancer with all her might, but he was ready for her. With a single, powerful strike he knocked the blade from her hands and leveled the covered tip of his polearm at her. Not once during their fight had the bindings so much as come loose.

"_That_ will be your undoing," Lancer said, stamping the bottom of his weapon into the soft earth. "I thank you for the match but now I must be going. My Master will be wondering why I was delayed."

Bowing to Risako, he returned his weapon to its perch on his shoulder and turned away while Rider dropped to her knees.

"Rider!" Risako ran to her Servants side and took her hands into her own. "Are you hurt?"

"No, Risako." Rider pulled her hands gently away, shaking her head. Her armor disappeared and she got to her feet. "I am uninjured, but I was unable to score so much as a single hit on that Servant. His defense was flawless. Even when I thought to close the distance and take away the advantage of his weapon's reach, it didn't matter, he still blocked every attack I made and it was all I could do to avoid his counterattacks. And he disarmed me."

"But you didn't use your Noble Phantasm, right?" Risako tried in an encouraging tone. "That's supposed to be your ultimate weapon, isn't it?"

Rider smiled bitterly. "Neither did Lancer."

* * *

Vivian threw the doors of the church open with a great crash and strode between the pews, her footsteps echoing through the abandoned building like peals of thunder. She came upon the alter and beat her fists down on it. The cross and the candlesticks and whatever else might have rested on top of it had long been taken, which meant there was nothing to shove onto the floor in fury. So she settled with pounding her fists.

"She didn't even recognize me." Vivian said, tears running from her eyes. She laughed bitterly. "She forgot all about me, didn't she? But that's to be expected. After all, what am I beside some vague memory of a long-forgotten Spring? I would have forgiven her for forgetting her promise, but…"

She beat her fists down one last time and turned away from the alter - a candle was lying on the ground near her feet. It must have fallen when a thief stole away with the more valuable candlestick. She knelt down to picked it and muttered a single word under her breath.

"_Entzünden_."

There was a smell like sulfur in the air and the candle's wick took fire instantly. Vivian walked toward the front of the pews and let the wax drip until a crude incantation circle had been made. Then she reached into her pocket and removed the object she had been trying to forget about for the past week. It was the empty casing of a bullet, the bullet that had supposedly slain a certain German sniper, to be precise. She rolled the casing around between her fingers and took a breath, her mind made up, and she set it in the middle of her circle.

"Das Material ist aus Silber und Eisen." She chanted. "Der Grundstein ist aus Stein und dem Großherzog des Vertrag."

The circle began to glow faintly. She continued. "Der Ahn ist mein großer Meister Schweinorg. Schutz gegen einen heftigen Wind. Schließ alle Tore, geh aus der Krone, zirkulier die Gabelung nach dem König."

The glow became brighter. Vivian felt the power course through her body, as though it were all one great circuit.

"Füll, füll, füll, füll, füll. Es wird fünfmal wiederholt. Nur ist es die volle Zeit gebrochen."

She closed her eyes energy coursed through her body like a torrent. It was as through she were a dam whose gates had burst open, but she held her concentration, continuing the incantation.

"Satz. Du überläßt alles mir, mein Schicksal überläßt alles deinem Schwert. Das basiert auf dem Gral, antwort wenn du diesem Willen und diesem Vernunftgrund folgst. Liegt das Gelübde hier. Ich bin die Güte der ganzen Welt."

Vivian body was awash in pain, starting from the tips of her fingers and flowing down her nerves down to her toes. She thought she would cry out for a fleeting moment, but she never did.

"Ich bin das Böse der ganzen Welt. Du bist der Himmel mit dreien Wortseelen. Komm, aus dem Kreis der Unterdrückung, der Schutzgeist der Balkenwaage!"

Vivian could see the light flare against her closed eyelids, she could feel the pain rush out and the gates close again. When she opened her eyes the room of the church was dark once again. Her head was spinning. She blinked and tried to get her bearings.

Had it worked? Had it all been for nothing?

"You are thinking you are my Master, then, _devochka_?" a voice came from behind Vivian.

She turned to find a man sitting in the pews. He was dressed in a green coat of heavy cotton fabric. On his head rested a brown side cap with a red star pinned to the front. Propped up against the back of the pew was a rifle with a scope attachment. The smoke from the cigarette pressed between his lips lingered around his head, giving him the appearance of having a halo. His cold blue eyes, lined with age, regarded her coolly.

"That's right. And you are my Servant, Archer?"

"_Da_," the man said after plucking the cigarette from his mouth. "I am the last."

"Well, I suppose that this means it's time to go to war."

Archer smiled faintly and put his cigarette out on the arm of the pew.

"About time."


	5. Night Falls - Part 1

Chapter 5 – Night Falls (Part 1)

It was a dream she had grown accustomed to long ago, and every time it came to her in the night she welcomed it like an old friend. A torch burst into flame somewhere, driving the darkness away, bathing the cavern in flickering red light. Risako stood in the center of the cavern floor, turning this way and that peering down the myriad passageways that snaked away from her, leading into the inky blackness. The more she turned the more paths seemed to appear and the more anxious she grew over choosing any of them. Here in her cavern Risako had her torchlight, warm and bright, and every path she saw would take her to someplace dark, cold, unknown. Risako felt her body shiver despite the warmth of the torch and she looked down at her open hand.

In the palm of her hand rested a bronze compass, light as a feather, its needle twirling around fitfully, but that didn't matter. North was not where she needed to go. Directions were meaningless in this place. Finally the needle came to rest, pointing at one of the many passageways that lay before her, and Risako turned toward it. Torches lit up in sconces along the wall, beckoning for her to follow them. She hesitated for a moment, but closed her fingers around the compass and took one step toward the mouth of the passageway, then another, and another. Torches flared up at her side as she walked, but a different kind of light was overtaking it. Sunlight, bright and blinding flooded into the passageway through the mouth of a cave. Instinctively she moved towards the light, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her and she jerked around to find the older man she had met on the road standing behind her.

"Are you sure you want to go that way?" The man inquired his voice harsh and grim, even though his lined face was kind. "The light tempts us, exposes us, draws us away from the safety of the dark. If you go that way you can never go back."

"Who are you?" Risako asked, brushing the man's hand away. "What do you want with me?"

A frown crept onto the man's face, and he stepped back, letting the darkness swallow him whole. "You'll find out soon enough, Risako Emiya. If that is the path you have chosen."

Turning back to the mouth of the cave, Risako forgot about the man and stepped forward into the light and had to squeeze her eyes against the burning white light as she was engulfed by it. When she opened them again she was standing in a park, in the center of a path of paved stone. Without hesitation, Risako followed the path, brushing away the leaves and branches that seemed to grab at her from the trees along the path and pull on her hair as if trying to stop her.

"What is it with everything trying to get in my way?" She muttered to herself, annoyed. "There is only one way for me to go."

She followed the path vaguely aware that the pavestones was gradually disappearing, giving way packed earth and then finally grass, which had grown up to her knees. It was then she was a child again, dressed up in grass-stained pants with holes in the knees. She was walking out into a great field, where a silver-haired girl was waiting for her.

The field was there, but there was something wrong. The grass around her was all dead; black and burned, and trees reminded her of used matchsticks. The silver-haired girl was there, as she expected, standing with her back to her. But the girl was taller than her, her hair had grown long and she was dressed in a high school uniform. When she turned to face Risako, she gave a weak smile and said something – a single word that Risako couldn't quite hear, and didn't seem to notice the shadow rising behind her.

Risako tried to run to the girl, reaching for her, shouting out to her, but like in all nightmares the more she ran, the further away she came on her destination, and the horrible, monstrous shadow loomed over the silver-haired girl, a shadow with a pair of glowing red points, like embers from a dying fire where its eyes should have been. The thing's massive hand reached out for Vivian, opening those, huge, smoky fingers around her, and moments after the hand closed, Risako awoke.

Risako was lying in her bed in an unusual position, the sheets twisted around her and her pillow on the floor. She remembered after the match with Lancer, Rider had carried her home by horse as she had done the night Risako had summoned her. Rider herself was seated in the same chair she had occupied the previous night. Rider's eyes were shut, but something told Risako she wasn't really sleeping.

Risako shifted herself, trying to untangle herself from the bedsheets, and glanced at the clock to discover that it was only 1:00 and sighed. The memories of her dream still lingered with her, like afterimages burned into her eyes from looking at a light too long, but they were already becoming indistinct. She could still remember seeing Vivian again in her dream. The field she had remembered had been burned, and then there was that shadow. She had awoken abruptly, but she could almost hear the echoes of bones crunching after that thing's hand had closed, and she felt a wave of nausea.

"Gotta stop eating cheese before bed," she muttered to herself before rolling over. She didn't expect she would get back to sleep easily after that dream, but before she realized it she had drifted off once again.

* * *

When it seemed as though Risako was sound asleep again, Rider opened her eyes and slowly lifted herself from her seat. Before she went to open the door to her Master's bedroom she stopped to look down at Risako for a moment, noticed the blankets weren't covering her properly and carefully fixed them.

"I'm sorry, Risako." Rider whispered more to herself than anyone before she closed the door behind her. "But I think it is for the best that you do not have to witness what I will have to do."

She walked down the hallway in her socks, being careful not to make any noticeable sound as she went. The Emiya house wasn't the largest she had seen in her days, but it was big enough, and there was no telling what sort of surprises they might have left out for those trying to sneak in rather than out. The front door was within sight, and Rider was almost certain she was clear when the voice spoke.

"A bit late for a stroll, wouldn't you say?"

Rider turned around immediately, drawing her sword halfway before stopping and letting it slide back into its sheath.

Risako's father was sitting in a chair in the living room, gazing at the blank television set, his hands steepled below his chin.

"How long have you known?" Rider asked, keeping her tone even, trying not to allow the surprise show in her voice.

"Since the beginning, since you first showed up with my daughter last night," Shirou answered. "You see, this is not the first time I've had Servants in my house. I was hoping there would never be a next time, but I kept the boundary field in place just in case a day like this reared its ugly head."

"You were a Master?" Rider asked.

"Like daughter, like father, right?" Shirou chuckled, though his voice was clearly strained. "She gets the good looks from me too, can't you tell? Though she's got her mother's nose."

"I see."

"I can probably guess what you're intent on doing, and in your place I would probably be doing the same thing. But nothing good has ever come from this Grail, or the fighting it brings down on us."

"Maybe," Rider said. "But there are still enemies in this city. At least one who has already made an attempt on Risako's life, and nothing will be served by sitting her and waiting for them to come to us."

"The best offense is a good defense, or something like that?" Shirou said, taping his fingers together. "I'll admit I'm not too trilled about the idea of my daughter's Servant leaving her side at night of all times, though I'm even less keen on her marching out to the frontlines. I'll keep the watch for now, but first I have to ask you something."

"Yes?"

"Do you consider yourself a hero?"

Rider gave Shirou an apprehensive look. "A hero?"

"Sorry for asking a strange question like that out of the blue." Shirou chuckled. "What I mean is are you someone who will save everyone, no matter what?"

Rider considered this for a moment. "I am but a ronin samurai," she said in a flat voice. "I am someone who could not save her own lord and did not even have the common sense to die beside him. So no, I am no hero. But I swear I will protect Risako to my last breath."

Shirou nodded in approval. "Good enough."

* * *

Lancer frowned as he sat in his own thoughts, sipping from the glazed clay teacup. He watched the steam rise from the cup in cool night air and sighed. He had felt the distinct surge of prana that could have only meant that the final Servant had been summoned and that the Holy Grail War could truly begin. He lifted himself from the flat rock in the garden he had taken for his seat and brushed the grass from his clothing before picking up his spear and made his way back into the house and rapped on the door of his Master's room.

"Yes?" The boy's voice called from inside.

"It is I, your loyal Servant."

"Oh, cool." The voice returned. "Come on in, Lancer."

Lancer turned the doorknob and stepped into his Master's room. The boy was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his thumbs hard at work on the buttons of the handheld game machine he always had on his person.

"If I am disturbing you, I can return at another time."

"Nah, I'm almost done with this part." Without looking up from the screen the boy waved a dismissive hand before quickly returning it to the buttons. "Make yourself comfortable."

Lancer found a chair at his Master's desk and sat down slowly, standing his spear up against the wall beside him and waited. The boy's eyes appeared to be completely focused on the screen of the game machine, and the glare of its light gave his face a pale bluish cast. The fact that such an object could entrance someone so completely made Lancer feel uneasy somehow, though eventually his Master pull himself away from the game down and looked up.

"So, you had some news for me?"

"Yes." Lancer stood up and knelt before his young Master. "I have confirmed that the seventh and final Servant has been summoned on this night."

"If I remember what you told be before, that would make this last one be Archer, wouldn't it?"

"That is correct."

"Hmm, Archer, is it?" The boy flopped himself down onto his bed. "Saber, Archer, Berserker and all that, it sort of sounds kind of like this is some kind of RPG. You don't think the person who created the Grail War was a gamer, do you?"

"The First Grail War occurred many centuries ago, young master." Lancer explained patiently. "Your video games did not exist at that time."

"Oh, really?" The boy looked nonplussed. "With stuff like classes and special moves and all that, I would have thought – oh well, never mind. So, I guess that means we're going to have to go out and fight them, right?"

Lancer frowned slightly at what the boy said last. "I am your sword and your shield, young master. All you must do is speak the word, and I will strike down all of your foes and return to you with the Holy Grail."

"But I do know magic," the boy complained. "I did summon you, didn't I? I can do other things, too. My father, my real father, taught me how to-"

"Forgive me, young master." Lancer interrupted, and bowed his head low. "For your own safety I must insist that you remain here when battle is met. Even a fully mature and experienced magus would be hard pressed to hold their own against a Servant, especially one with inherently strong magical resistance, such as the likes of Saber."

"You said Saber was the strongest Servant," the boy muttered. "But if the other Masters knew who you were they would just give up fighting. No one can defeat you."

"If the other Masters were to know who I was, then they would waste no time in drawing plans to counter me." Lancer admonished the boy, closing his eyes. He had often left the planning and the worrying about details in the resourceful hands of his lord's master strategist, but that was now all his responsibility; that, and protecting this stubborn child; protecting him perhaps more from himself than from his foes. "Knowledge is power, young master, and in the wrong hands knowledge of my true name could spell doom for both of us. Please, exercise caution for this moment forward, for we can never be certain of who or what is listening to our conversations."

"Oh, that reminds me!" the boy jumped up suddenly. "I heard we were supposed to be having someone staying at the temple for a while. I remember hearing that they were going to arrive tomorrow afternoon at the earliest. You don't think that they have anything to do with the war, do you?

Lancer lifted his head. He was familiar with the concept of temple lodging, but understood it was rare in this age when inns offered more comfortable accommodations. He doubted anyone would choose to seek room and board at a temple without some reason. "I cannot deny the possibility. Shall I look into this, young master?"

"Nah, I'll take care of that. You focus on winning the War for us, okay? And if for some reason something happens and I get into trouble, I'll just use one of these."

The boy waved the back of his hand at Lancer showing him the three red markings.

"I should advise you to think carefully about how you choose to use the Command Seals." Lancer said. "But I will defer to your judgment. If I am successful, then perhaps you will not need to use them after all."

"Not if," the boy smiled. "_When_."

* * *

Archer followed Vivian down the shopping street under the cover of darkness, navigating by memories long lost to haze the haze of time. The only light they had to go by came off of the globe-shaped street lamps and the red glow of the freshly rolled cigarette Archer was holding between his lips. He left a trail of smoke in his wake as he walked, making his head look kind of like a comet in Vivian's eyes. Occasionally he would take a puff and blow out a thick cloud which would drift around his head like a halo and then he would chuckle to himself.

"What are you so amused about, Captain?" Vivian asked, stopping at an intersection to study the street signs.

"Is nothing." Archer took a long drag from his cigarette and grinned, blowing the smoke out of his nose. "Was just thinking me, hero of great Soviet Union now fighting some war for German _devochka. _Very amusing to me."

"Oh." Vivian said and looked back at her Servant uncertainly. "That war ended a long time ago."

"I know all of this." Archer said dismissively, flicking the ashes from the tip of his cigarette. "So, what are we looking for?"

"We're patrolling." Vivian explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "Looking for Servants, or if we're really lucky one of the other Masters will stick their head out of their hidey-hole. That's not some kind of magically enchanted gun, is it?"

"No," Archer glanced at the rifle propped against his shoulder and smiled at it fondly, patting its stock as though he were patting the shoulder of an old friend. "Give me Mosin-Nagant _tyrokhlineyka_ rifle before magic any day. Tell me, _devochka_, does wizard not die like other man?"

"No," Vivian answered quietly. "No, they die just fine."

"Then there is no problem." Archer laughed, and waved his hand, drawing a line through the air with smoke. "I put bullet in eye, wizard dies. Do not make thing so complicated. So, you know were target is or are we just wandering through streets for hell of it?"

"I have a feeling they'll do the hard work for us and show themselves before long, but I want you to be out of sight before that happens." Vivian looked up at the buildings and the rooftops that seemed so high above them. "Take your position, Archer. I'll be the bait to draw them out. Oh, and take this." She pushed a wireless headset into Archer's hand and put an earpiece into her own ear. "We can use this to communicate over long distances. Inform me if you spot anyone that looks… uh, master or servant-like."

"Master or Servant-like, is it? _Da._" Archer took at the wireless headset and turned it over in his hands. "What I would have give for something like this during war."

"And one more thing," said Vivian. "If any of the Masters you see is a girl with short red hair, I forbid you to fire. Her servant is fair game, but the girl is off-limits, understand?"

"What do I say about complicated?" Archer stuck the cigarette back between his lips and smirked cheekily at his Master, then looked up at the nearest building. He bent his legs and sprung up like a hare, landed on a fire escape, then leapt again, landing on the roof of a department store parking garage, then leapt again and vanished into the night. Nodding to herself, fairly confidant her Servant would follow her instructions, she shoved her hands into her pockets and kept walking.

"How things stay the same, and yet how things change." Vivian muttered, looking at the city around her. "No, that's not how it goes."

Much of Fuyuki City's shopping street had been closed for the night, though there were still some karaoke bars and internet cafes open. Perhaps she could stay at one of those places for the night. Now that she thought of it, after she had taken care of her business with transferring schools, she hadn't even bothered to look into the room that had been arranged for her. And there was no way she could go back to that ruined church after summoning Archer there. That place had probably lit up like a Christmas tree on fire after that and would no doubt be swarming with those Abernethy men with their cars and their radios and their guns. It was too much of a hassle to deal with them all – better to strike off the head of the serpent.

What were the chances of her meeting another Master on the street tonight, anyway? She found herself wondering. Many of them would probably be too cautious to come out into the open as she was hoping her midnight walk might entice them to do. And if one of them did, did she even have a plan?

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Vivian muttered rolling the bullet casing she had used as her catalyst between her thumb and forefinger. She had waited - waited for so long, but after a year… two years… three years. How long had it taken for her to realize that no one was coming for me? How many years had it taken for her to resign herself to her fate?

"I'll always find you, no matter what, huh?" Vivian spat. What a load of childish sentimental crap. She closed her fist around the casing and came to a sudden stop, cursing herself under her breath when she heard Archer's voice in her ear.

"_Unknown presence - ten meters." _

She had only just now become aware of the presence on the other side of the street. It had done a crack job of concealing itself, but a long shadow now stretched towards her from another streetlamp, and the source of it was a woman, standing with her arms crossed wearing the most ridiculous looking silk shift and a look that said she would rather be anywhere else than standing right there.

"Is that seriously what's trendy these days?" Vivian asked, pointing. "Sorry, I've been out of the loop for a few years."

"Who the hell are you?" The woman asked, looking as though she had swallowed a bug just speaking to her.

"Just a passer-by, really, don't mind me." Vivian had a bad feeling about this. All her instincts were yelling at her that she should run as fast as she could the other way, but another voice was warning her if she did that, she would not make it out alive.

"Well, you've just passed-by into my territory, little girl." The woman said, raising a hand. A blue invocation circle with ancient Greek script appeared at her feet and began expanding outward "And now you're going to wish you hadn't."

A mage - but was it be Master or Caster? That was the question.

"_Hair not red._" Archer's flat voice was followed by the sound of a bolt being pulled back. "_So_, _is okay if I kill that?" _

"Be my guest."

The gunshot rang through the night like the crack of a whip. Archer must not have been that far away from the sounds of it, but Vivian didn't know whether or not to trust her ears in times like these. Before Vivian could blink there was a sizzle of blue energy, like electricity, and a pale blue bubble appeared around the woman, and the bullet had stopped mid-flight a few inches from her head. She flipped her long, half-blue half-gold hair and glared at Vivian as though she were something filthy left on the side of the road.

"Really, the quality of Archers has plummeted over the years." The woman said, plucking the bullet out of the air as though it were a cherry and flicked it away. "All you do is pull a little trigger and _bang_, dead. Where is the romance in _that_?"

_Bang_

A second bullet went through the bubble, slowed to a crawl, and then stopped, defying every law of physics Vivian could think of, and the woman looked as though her patience was wearing even thinner than it was.

"Such incessant violence - as to be expected from such senseless, brazen beasts as men, I suppose." The woman sighed and lifted her hand. "We will be making an end to this quickly, then. _Scylla!_"

* * *

Aiden sat at the long table in the main hall, reading quietly while Assassin spun his knife on the table, muttering incoherently in a way that seemed to be deliberately meant to distract the young lord of Abernethy. After Aiden had read over the same passage six times he closed the book and frowned at his Servant.

"Do you really have to do that here?"

"Would you rather I do it somewhere else?"

Aiden considered telling Assassin to do it off the edge of a cliff but then reconsidered. Nothing would be served by further antagonizing the strongest weapon he had at his disposal, however damaged it may be. Assassin picked the knife up flipped it over, tossed it from hand to hand and then flung it into the table with a wooden _thunk _that caused Aiden to moan. "What did I tell you about damaging the furniture?"

"What do you care, it's not even yours."

"That's not the point." He set the book down and leaned forward. "You know, Assassin, it had occurred to me that I've never actually asked what you were planning to ask the Grail when we have won it."

"What interest is it of yours?"

"Just passing curiosity, humor me if you will."

Aiden had no idea where the question had come from, himself, but for some reason he was curious about what twisted desire his Servant could ask of the Holy Grail – well, about one part curious and three parts terrified. Assassin looked at him for a second and smiled a thin smile that made his mouth look like a pale scar across his face.

"For my eternal suffering to end," Assassin responded, his cold, pale eyes sending shivers down his Master's back. "All I would ask of it is for my soul to be finally welcomed into the embrace of blissful oblivion."

"That's rather…uplifting." Aiden felt the sweatdrop trickle down the side of his face and realized that he might have been gripping the arms of the chair a bit too tightly. He thought he did a good job of downplaying his Servant's eccentricities, but "And here I was going to wish for world peace, prosperity, and puppies for everyone."

Assassin looked up suddenly. "Intruders. Two of them."

Just as he said that there came the distant sound of wood and masonry crashing, glass shattering, and the guards on duty shouting, followed by gunfire, and then screams of pain - all in the space of five seconds. Aiden rose from his seat, his hand on the hilt of his sword when a door opened and Crawford rushed inside, and slammed it shut again, leaning against it as he tried to catch his breath.

"An enemy… Master and Servant… have breeched… the compound." He said, speaking in between gasps. "Servant cannot be harmed by normal means."

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Assassin asked, plucking his knife out of the table. "Your compound is a ruined castle with laughable defenses. But if a Master has truly erred and walked into a situation where we have the advantage…"

Aiden looked Assassin in the eyes, for once not flinching at the cold, and nodded. "Do it."

The Servant bowed, stepped backward, and was gone without a trace of ever having been there. _Well_, Aiden thought, _if he was planning on abandoning me, now would be the worst time for both of us. If I were to die here, he'd die as well. Was this that Moderator's idea? He did say he was going to arrange the battles or something like that._

Heavy footsteps were now approaching the door and guards outside were shouting commands at each other and unloading their clips at - something. The shooting stopped abruptly followed by more screaming and the sickening sound of bones crunching. Aiden had never actually heard the sound before but he knew there was nothing else it possibly could be and it was all he could do to keep his hands steady.

And that was when the walls turned into gold.


	6. Night Falls - Part 2

Chapter 6 - Night Falls (Part 2)

A moment passed after the garishly dressed woman with improbable hair spoke. It was a short moment, but in that moment a queer silence fell over the road, such silence that Vivian could hear the faint, ever-present ringing in her ears. Then it came, the sound of the ground beneath them rending and churning. The pavement fractured and split, forming a crack between Vivian and her enemy – the crack then ruptured fell in on itself, widening into a gap about five feet in length, water roiling and sloshing over its edges.

_Wait, water_? That didn't make any sense – even if had been sewers and pipelines below their feet there was no way there could have been that much water. It was almost as though the woman had relocated a larger body of water onto that location.

The arm that soon burst out of the water and scrambled for the edge ended any attempt to deduce what manner of magecraft this was. Another arm followed, and then a head, a torso. A girl was crawling out of the water, her shoulder-length black hair plastered against her face, naked save for a few scraps of cloth that protected her modesty. She stretched her lithe arms and legs, her dark brown eyes blinking as though she had just been awoken from a long sleep. The two pointed ears atop her head perked up and the short black tail that hung from her backside wagged back and forth.

Had that woman just summoned a Servant? Did that mean this was one of her rival magi? This wasn't making any sense.

"_Devochka, _something strange has come out of the ground." Archer cleared his throat in her earpiece. "Looks like naked girl with dog ears and tail."

"I can see that," Vivian said. "She's with the enemy. Eliminate her."

It sounded almost like Archer clicked his tongue. "What a waste,"

A gunshot shattered the silence and a second later the girl with dog ears' head snapped back, as though she had been suddenly struck by something moving at a high speed.

"_Harasho_." Archer muttered in a vaguely satisfied tone with the sound of the expended casing being ejected in the background over the earpiece, and then after a short pause. "No, that is not possible."

The girl's head came back up, and she stumbled forward slightly, dazed. In between her canine-like teeth was a bullet. She opened her mouth and let the bullet drop impotently to the ground before beginning to growl in a menacingly way at Vivian. The woman who must have been the magi walked around the girl and scratched her behind the ears affectionately.

"Good girl, Scylla," She glanced up at the rooftops of the buildings around them. "It would seems as though there is a rat infestation over there, my pet. Would you kindly exterminate them for me?"

Without a second thought, the dog-eared girl leapt through the air, catching the edge of the rooftop with a single bound, then scrambled up and rushed off in search of Archer.

"Archer, get out of there. Move it."

"I know." Archer's voice was calm. "Looks like doggy has a good nose on her, hiding not going to be easy. Am heading to river now. Moreover, worry about yourself."

"Right," Vivian nodded, and nearly missed dodging a bolt of light aimed at her. The bolt seared past the side of her head and opened a hole in the wall of a shop behind her. She stood still for a moment, eyes wide, knowing full well that if she hadn't moved at the last second, the result would have been rather messy.

"Didn't anyone tell you it was rude to carry on a conversation while other people have affairs with you?"

"That must have been one of the lessons I skived off." Vivian said, trying to keep her cool. "Neat little spell, though. I was kind of expecting something a little showier, y'know? _Flash! Boom, explosions!_ And all that business. So, is Scylla your Servant?"

The woman shrugged. "The secret is out I suppose. Yes, I am the master of Berserker. What can I say, I'm not much for the whole cloak and dagger bit of this nonsense. And your own Servant… some kind of sharpshooter, was it? Forgive me, I have little interest in the noisy, uncouth weapons of this era. Well, it doesn't matter, my cute Scylla will hunt him down in due course. And in the meantime, I'll have you entertain me."

A ball of light formed in the palm of the woman's hand, but this time Vivian was ready. From her pocket she took a perfectly smooth ball and began chanting an incantation under her breath.

"Begin synthesis. Disassemble, reorder material, reassemble, fortify."

As she spoke, the ball seemed to turn into putty in her hand, writing about in like a snake before remolding itself into a large, flat circular surface, like a shield, which rippled faintly before solidifying. When the blot shot out from the woman's hand it struck the surface of the shield with a deafening crash that shattered the glass of the surrounding windows and broke the shield into over a thousand tiny fragments.

"Amusing little trick, girl, but that's not going to… save… you."

The woman looked across the street and blinked. Vivian was nowhere to be found.

…

_The walls had turned to gold._

Aiden wasn't certain which should have alarmed him more, the fact that his family's prized barriers had been broken like wet tissue, something on the other side of the door was single-handedly dispatching each of his highly trained personal guard, or the fact that somehow the walls around him had _turned into gold_. Although he was not a practitioner himself, he had read up a bit on alchemy, and the general theory behind material transmutation, but this was something on an entirely different level.

"There's a bloody Servant on the other side of that door, isn't it?"

"Probably," Crawford had drawn a Desert Eagle from its holster on his hip and was checking the magazine before nodding to himself and quietly pushed it back into the chamber.

"You think your bullets are really going to do anything against that?" Aiden asked, hearing the sounds of gunfire outside, punctuated by screams of anguish and crunching bones and the voices of men shouting things like '_what the hell is that thing!?_' and '_I can't get a clear shot!' _

"These are _special_ bullets, Aiden." Crawford muttered, and flipped the table over to form a makeshift cover as tremendous force struck the door causing it to cave inwards slightly, dropping clouds of dust from the ceiling onto their heads and setting the lights to flicker. A few seconds later another came and the door flew off its hinges and crashed pathetically onto the floor.

Through a wall of smoke and dust, a shadowy form appeared. Its shoulders were wide and its massive arms dragged the floor as its long legs shambled towards them like a juggernaut. But at the same time it was also short, with the build of a normal man. The shape of the creature seemed amorphous and shifted with each step it took. It stepped through the door unhindered and moments its shoulders were twice as wide as the doorframe. Its eyes glowed with a red hue through the foggy miasma that seemed to float around it at all times, concealing its true form, if it even had one.

"Berserker, I presume?" Aiden said, trying to keep some humor in his tone. "Must be, clearly not going to be winning any beauty contests."

Crawford rose for a second and shot off two rounds in quick succession and with perfect accuracy before ducking back down again. The Servant's hand suddenly grew to the size of a boulder and swatted the bullets away as though they were annoying flies.

"_Special_ bullets, Crawford?"

"That doesn't usually happen." His brother said irately.

"That's a Servant we're dealing with. Conventional weapons will be about as useful as a snowball in hell."

"And don't you have a Servant?" Crawford asked. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Waiting for an opportunity to present itself," Aiden said, and then added quietly. "I hope."

Assassin might be a Servant, but going up against another Servant in single combat would be suicide, especially for this particular Assassin. He'd give his family fortune for some legendary ninja right then. But wait, why weren't they being attacked? Berserker just seemed to be standing there, waiting for something.

Aiden ventured a peek out of his cover and saw a young girl standing behind Berserker, covered from head to toe in bloodstained gauze bandages, and behind her stood Assassin, holding his dagger at her throat. It seemed as though Berserker's Master, thinking her victory was assured, had been foolish enough to step out of hiding. _And so, an opportunity presents itself._

Appearing behind the girl, Assassin pressed his dagger against her neck, frowning.

Something wasn't right. The Master of Berserker wasn't reacting at all to this new threat, she hadn't so much as flinched when the blade touched her - everything about the situation seemed wrong to him. But before he could warn Assassin, the foolish Servant had already slashed the blade across the girl's throat. Almost at once, the color drained from her body, which had turned into a pile of bandages that were weaving themselves around his arms and binding them together. It seemed he didn't need warning to know what was coming next, because he turned to face Berserker just in time to get plucked off the ground like an ant.

"See how easy that was, Raika?" a voice echoed down the corridor. A pair was making their way towards them, stepping casually over the broken bodies that littered the floor. "Just like that one more threat is erased, and your comrade will have plenty to eat for a while, I think."

"Desmond, what the hell are you doing?"

"Why, I'm simply evening the playing field, my old friend." The man Aiden knew as Desmond Cianán said in a very matter-of-fact tone. "Don't you think it's a little unfair? I know it's called the Grail _War_, Aiden, but to bring your very own army, that's taking it a little too far, isn't it? Well, you know what they say about big things and how hard they fall. Raika, tell Berserker to crush that Servant."

"He'll turn against you when this is done, girl!" Aiden shouted over the table. "It's what he does; it's in his very nature, the bastard!"

"Don't listen to him Raika." Desmond said. "He'll do anything to try an drive a wedge between you and your friends. Finish that Servant, and you'll be one step closer to getting everything you want."

"Assassin, do it!" Aiden yelled. "Use 'that'!"

"No…" Assassin somehow managed to gurgle out. "Don't want… go back…"

"You're going to go back for good if you don't, now _use it_" Aiden cried out desperately, and felt a burning sensation on his arm as his second command seal vanished.

Assassin glowered at him and opened his mouth. A single growled word came out. "_Cocytus_."

And just like that, a blast of icy wind burst forth from his body and blew outward like a the shockwave from a bomb, knocking Desmond and his companion off of their feet and blowing Aiden and Crawford across the floor. Berserker, who was caught at the epicenter, soon found that his arm was covered in a thick layer of ice and thoughtlessly dropped Assassin onto the floor while trying to claw it off, and around them the walls that had somehow turned into gold were now returning to their original stony color.

"Crawford, please tell me you have some kind of escape route worked out." Aiden called over the wind. His question was answered when his brother took a small remote trigger out of his pocket and nodded as best he could before pressing a button on the top of the device.

After the deafening explosion that followed, Aiden couldn't quite remember how he had someone managed to make his way out of the castle, nor how he found himself laying on his back in the middle of the forest, shaking against the unnatural cold that still penetrated his bones. He didn't know when Assassin had stood over him, looking down at him with those cold pale eyes of his.

The Grail War had begun and night had fallen over a Fuyuki City that was as silent as a tomb. Night had fallen and somehow Aiden Stanford Abernethy was still alive. He took in a deep breath of cold, fresh air, never really appreciating it until now, noting how the moist forest floor was soaking into the back of his shirt when his brother's voice broke him out of his reverie.

"So, Aiden." He said. "Where are we going to sleep, now?"


	7. Intermission - Sophia

**Note: Short chapter. I meant to include Servant stats at the end, but the website messed up my formatting and later I realized that some of the information I included might accidentally reveal the identities of the Servants I wanted to keep hidden longer. For that reason I removed that section and reuploaded the chapter.**

* * *

Intermission – Sophia

The man in the brown felt hat made his way alone through the lamp-lit town, making no sound save for light, muffled footsteps as he walked. He passed like a shadow through silent neighborhoods and empty commercial streets, unnoticed by the stumbling drunkard, whom he only paid a passing notice.

Towns were different when the sun went down and its people were safe in their houses. Night was a time of shadows, the things that lived in the shadows, and those who hunted in the shadows; and there were many times - times that had grown far too plentiful in the passing years - when the man had difficulty deciding into which of those three categories he truly fit.

He did not know just how long he had walked before he stopped in front of the temple. He was not the most proficient in reading the Chinese characters that were etched into the sign on the road, but he understood enough to know he had arrived at his destination.

"Sophia." He said.

A girl appeared from the shadows. Her olive skin and dark eyes were evidence of her Mediterranean heritage, but her reddish blonde hair she must have gotten from somewhere else.

"I was not expecting to see you here for some time, Sir Giovanni," the girl said quietly, glancing about as though unsure of whether or not someone was eavesdropping on them. "If you would prefer, my room inside might be more comfortable. I can prepare something to-"

"That will not be necessary, Sophia." Giovanni Abbabelli interrupted with a soft yet decisive voice. "Saber has already confirmed that the other Servants are otherwise engaged, so we can speak freely here. The inside of that building is still an unknown to me; I do not doubt your attention to detail with regards to disabling listening devices, however there are still those that are beyond your skill to detect."

"I see," Sophia answered meekly. "Sir Giovanni, I have received confirmation from my inside source that the Association has dispatched an investigator to Fuyuki City. I believe it is El-Melloi's successor."

"That took a bit longer than I had anticipated. Hm, she will not be an easy opponent I fear, but we will deal with that obstacle in due course. Now, tell me Sophia, have you gathered the information that I requested?"

"Yes, Sir Giovanni," Sophia nodded, taking a phone from her pocket and tapping the screen. "I have gathered as much information on the six other Masters who have gathered here. First, the Master of Archer, who was the latest arrival, is Vivian Justina von Einzbern. She lived here in Fuyuki City for approximately five years with her older brother Wilhelm, during which time she had contact with the Master of Rider, Risako Emiya. Vivian was transferred into the same high school as Emiya, apparently under orders to observe her. Risako Emiya is the daughter of two survivors of the previous Grail War, Shirou and Sakura Emiya. She has rudimentary knowledge of magecraft, though her parents have been wary of her becoming involved with the Association."

"With good reason," Giovanni said. "Both of those girls lack experience. From my own observations, the Emiya girl was pulled into this war against her will due to a defense mechanism of some kind. But I would not write them off as a lost cause so soon."

"I see," Sophia tapped the screen of her phone again. "I believe you are familiar with the Master of Assassin, Lord Aiden Stanford Abernethy."

"Yes, I knew his father Geraint relatively well." Giovanni said, remembering. "We met during the war in Afghanistan many years ago. I had high hopes for his son, but after seeing the boy set his Servant on a helpless girl… I'm almost relieved his father cannot see him now. I would have thought his brother Crawford would have had better sense than to stand by and allow him to give such an order. He would have made a much better head of the Abernethy house, but alas he never had much interest or disposition to magecraft."

"The master of Caster is Deasmhumhnach mac Éinri Cianán, also known as Desmond. Illegitimate son of Cúchonnacht Cianán."

Giovanni frowned. "I am unfamiliar with the name."

"He claims to be the rightful king of Ireland." Sophia continued. "He has shown to be resourceful, manipulative, and ruthless in his methods. It is through him that I discovered the Master of Berserker, a girl by the name of Raika."

"Raika?"

"Possibly an assumed name, she has been living on the streets for an undetermined length of time, hiding in abandoned buildings, living off of scraps. I have been searching through missing persons reports, but so far I have been unable to find one which matches her description."

"The girl must be a mage of some power, lest the strain placed upon her by her Servant lead to her own destruction."

"Sir Giovanni, I have seen the girl wearing bandages covering a large part of her body. I do not yet know the direct cause of her injuries, if any exist at all."

"Madness," Giovanni muttered. "Utter madness… they are all but children. What business do they have fighting this war? What wish could possibly be worth throwing away their own lives and taking the lives of others? "

At these words Sophia's face took on an anxious look. Her lips tightened and she lowered her eyes to the screen of her phone, the screen casting a pale blue hue upon her face. "Then I should think you will not be pleased to hear what I have discovered."

"What is it, Sophia?"

"I believe I have found the identity of Lancer's Master."

Lowering her phone, she glanced back at the Ryuudouji Temple.


End file.
